Origins of the Wicked
by NocturnalWeasel
Summary: My first fanfic! Feedback is really appreciated :3  The very existence of Minecraftia is threatened as a new evil rises to power. When an unexpected visitor turns up at Steve's door, he must form an alliance with the one once called "the enemy."
1. Chapter 1

To the inexperienced person, Minecraftia sounded like the ideal, blissful world to live in. When you think about it, it did have its many perks: beautiful landscapes, an endless supply of all necessary resources, and most importantly, the chance to build the fantasy world you always dreamed about. It was a world completely of your own, consisting of the buildings and structures you designed, governed by the laws you made.

But the reality was, life in the never-ending world of Minecraftia was a difficult, lonely one. After all, humans are born social creatures with a natural need for companionship. When one of these social beings is thrust into this world as its first and most likely only occupant, he or she has no choice but to adjust to the company of cows, chickens, pigs, and sheep – an adjustment that still leaves a part of them longing for one of their own kind. Or maybe just someone that, when spoken to, would say something in response besides a grunt or a moo.

The fortunate/unfortunate person (depending on where you stand in this situation) who was forced to confront this internal problem one day was none other than Steve, miner and architect extraordinaire.

He had been mining cobblestone on this particular day, preparing to make an extension to his ever-growing house. With all of the resources that had accumulated from past cave expeditions flooding his storage room, he had decided to build an additional room to hold his many treasures. But while he was diligently chipping away at the stone with his pick, he couldn't help but sense a familiar feeling growing in his chest. This wasn't the first time, of course; in fact, he was beginning to feel it on a daily basis, but he never could quite become accustomed to it. It was an emotionally painful sensation that throbbed somewhere deep down in his soul. At first, he hadn't recognized the feeling and pushed it to the back of his mind, but now he knew, and it was almost impossible to ignore it.

He was lonely. Yes, he had a large home, ingots and gems of all sorts, and a whole world to himself, but the one thing he didn't have was a friend. And that hurt. It hurt more than a hundred arrow wounds from a skeleton or a thousand spider bites.

It was actually quite fitting, he mused. The lone survivor of Minecraftia was lonely. Would he like a friend? Of course he would. The loneliness was maddening at times. It wasn't like there was anything he could do about it, though. He had traveled a great distance across the lands for many months, seeing sights that no one had ever seen before, and yet he had never seen another human. The only thing he could do was bear the feeling until it ebbed away and accept that he was the only human in the world. He concluded this thought with a small sigh and, with a heavy heart, headed for home.

Life wasn't all bad, he thought in an attempt to cheer himself. Minecraftia was a beautiful world with its crystal clear water, lush forests and swamps, and sandy beaches. It certainly had come a long way from being the bare, foreign land he had woken up in so long ago. He smiled as he remembered scrambling to construct a crude shelter on his first night, shivering inside the dark, cramped space as he tried to block out the terrifying hisses and groans of the monsters outside. It had taken some time, but that little wooden hut eventually grew into a sturdy mansion on the shore of a lake which he christened Lighthouse Lake, for the stars shone brightly on its surface at night, making it visible from even the darkest hill.

His house wasn't the only thing that had grown over time. He himself had also come a long way. Once an amateur who knew little to nothing about survival, he now possessed the knowledge and ability to craft anything he desired, from something as simple as a torch to as complex as a fortress. He was skilled in the arts of hunting and fishing and could slay the most hideous of hostiles, whether by sword or bow. Trekking across deserts and scaling high mountaintops had shaped and strengthened his once weak muscles, making him as physically fit as he was mentally.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, interrupting his thoughts. He glanced at the sky and was surprised to see how many storm clouds had gathered; the sun had been shining brightly just a short while ago. So many storms lately... and it wasn't even the wet season. He wondered why Mother Nature was acting up all of a sudden.

But this wasn't the time to be thinking of such things. At this rate, the clouds would cover the entire area with darkness, and he would be stuck in the rain with a bunch of zombies. Realizing this, he quickened his pace to a sprint and hurried for home, just barely making it across the bridge over Lighthouse Lake and into the warm safety of his house before a flash of lightning signaled the beginning of a fierce downpour of rain. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it heavily, catching his breath for a moment; he really did need to pay more attention to the weather - it was always so unpredictable.

The air had already cooled significantly as the storm howled outside. Steve shivered and made his way to the fireplace, sinking into a comfy chair facing it. As he listened to the pattering of the raindrops splashing against the ground, his heavy eyes gradually drooped shut, and he fell into a silent, isolated sleep.

Something thudded against the door, and he awoke with a start. Rubbing the blurriness out of his eyes, he left the comfort of his chair and stretched. How much time had passed since he had fallen asleep? And more importantly, what was that odd sound that had awoken him from his slumber? In a daze, he lazily walked over to the door and tentatively peered out the window. There was no sign of anything that could have caused it; all he could make out in the darkness were the thousands of tiny little raindrops. How strange, he thought. Perhaps he had just been imagining it? Maybe he had been dreaming and somehow woke himself up. But he was sure he had heard something! It was so distinct, like a large object hitting the ground. No, he definitely hadn't been imagining things. Something was out there, and he needed to find out just what that something was.

He wanted to get a better look at what could have caused such a noise, so he opened the door - at least, he tried to, but something on the front porch was blocking it. Something just about his size. Something green. His stomach churned.

It was a creeper.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Steve was unable to move, frozen with fear. It was too late to run or even attempt to fight back. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the inevitable explosion, but it never came. _Any second now,_ he thought. _It'll be over soon_. He stood there for what seemed like an hour, nervous and yet curious as to why he and his house hadn't been blown to shreds. Maybe it wasn't a creeper after all?

Any thoughts of doubt quickly vanished from his mind when he cautiously opened one eye; there was indeed something standing right in front of him. Lightning clashed in the sky, briefly allowing him to catch a glimpse of his formidable green opponent in a better light.

Sure enough, the hauntingly mournful face stared back at him, completely devoid of any emotion… and yet not a single hiss or an explosion was heard.

Exactly what was going on here?

He swallowed a lump in his throat and meekly took a step back. Was this some sort of cruel joke? Was the creeper merely toying with his soon-to-be prey by appearing passive? Did creepers even possess that sort of humor? His mind whirled with confusion as he struggled to make sense of his current dilemma.

_Now is your chance,_ he told himself. _Just draw your sword and kill it. No big deal. You've done this before._ Keeping his eyes on the creeper, he slowly reached for the iron sword at his side, preparing to make the first move.

And then it spoke.

"Help me…"

"AGH!" Steve yelped and fell backward. Now he _knew_ he was hallucinating. Creepers did many things, but they did _not_ speak.

This fact was proven wrong when the creeper looked down at his shocked form on the floor and spoke again. "Please… help me…"

"Y-you… you j-just…" He stumbled greatly over his words. "Th-there's no way…" His voice trailed off, and all he could do was gaze upward at the creeper with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

_Get up, get up! Do something! Anything!_ His mind screamed at him to stand and defend himself, but his legs seemed to have given up on him at the moment. _This can't be happening. Creepers don't talk._

"I promise… I won't hurt you…"

He shut his eyes, refusing to believe what was right in front of him. _Creepers don't talk, creepers don't talk, creepers don't talk…_

"I'm…different…"

He opened his eyes.

There was such sorrow in the tiny voice that it was impossible not to hear it. Those two words seemed to hold a silent plea, a cry for help. But how could something like that come from something like… well, a monster? It was a creeper, for goodness sake! He glanced upward at it, conflicting feelings of curiosity and wariness tugging at him.

He noticed that the creeper was trembling (seemingly from the chilled, rainy weather), which made him wonder how long it had been standing out there. Crystal droplets of water dripped from its shivering body, telling him that it must have been out in the rain for quite a long time. Not only that, but there was a strange, bleeding gash on the right side of its face; it looked like a fresh wound. He almost felt pity for the poor creature, but then his natural instincts took over. _Be careful, _he reminded himself. _A creeper is still a creeper, no matter how vulnerable it may look._

While keeping a close eye on it, he rose with caution and cleared his throat. "Um… come in, I guess." He gestured to the fireplace. "You can warm yourself over there."

The creeper appeared as if it might begin to cry. "Th-thank you," it stammered gratefully.

Steve watched as it wobbled over to the fire and huddled close to it. He hoped it wasn't a bad idea to let it in his house, considering all the memories he had of past creepers invading his territory and completely obliterating it - and himself - with one blow. But there was something about this creeper that was different - besides the fact that it could speak, of course. There was something at the back of Steve's mind that told him to trust this visitor of his; he wasn't sure whether or not to follow that little voice in his head, but he reckoned it couldn't hurt to play along while keeping a safe distance. Besides, what was the creeper going to be able to do with that great of an injury?

He returned to his chair and motioned to the one opposite to him. "Sit down."

His weary guest gladly obliged, sinking into the wool cushion with a small hiss of contentment. Steve smiled in spite of himself; it seemed that humans weren't the only creatures that enjoyed the restful luxury of chairs.

It was a strange thing, to have built a house to keep the monsters out of his perimeter… and then willingly invite one in to that same house. Oh, the irony.

A few moments passed by before he broke the silence. "So… you can speak."

The creeper cocked its head to one side, perplexed at this statement. "Yes. Does that surprise you?"

"Of course it does!" Steve exclaimed in disbelief. "I mean, you're the first voice I've heard for years. And, well, you're a creeper."

"Yes."

"I've never known a creeper to speak."

"We normally don't converse in the human tongue, but I highly doubt you would understand what I have to say if I were to say it in our native language."

_Got that right_. Steve contemplated his next question. There were so many things he wanted to know that it made his head spin. Why did it decide to speak to him now? And why wasn't it attacking him? Nothing made sense anymore. He bit his lip in deep thought.

The creeper sensed his bewilderment. "I know how much my coming here must have upset you, but you're the only one I can turn to, human. There isn't much time."

Steve snapped back to reality. "Time until what?"

The creeper avoided his intent gaze and instead focused its attention on the fireplace, watching the flames dance and crackle behind the glass. "You… I… the world… we're all in danger - grave danger."

_Grave danger?_ Steve's heart skipped a beat at hearing those ominous words. "What do you mean, grave danger?"

The light from the fire flickered across the creeper's face, giving it an eerie glow. "There is great evil afoot, far beneath the crust of the earth… where the dark things lie. The wicked shall rise up and overthrow the fair. The world is doomed to die."

"Doomed to die?" Steve repeated faintly. "How do you know all of this?"

"There are Higher Beings of this world, greater than you and I. They have given me a sign - an ill-omened message from nature's skies. Haven't you noticed? Stormy weather, dried crops, malnourished animals… and the stars themselves are dimming."

"And that points to the death of the world… how?"

The creeper's empty eyes were suddenly filled with sadness. "You do not believe me." He looked back at Steve desperately. "You must trust that what I have said is true! I have no reason to lie."

Steve gave a long, thoughtful sigh, taking in what had been said to him. "Okay," he said slowly. "Let's say I do believe you're telling the truth. How do I know for sure?"

A slight, yet heavy pause hung in the air. "I think I would have to start from the very beginning - my beginning, to be exact."

Steve leaned back in the chair, sensing a long story was in store. "Go ahead, then. I'm listening."

The creeper inhaled and began his tale.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Seeing as how time is of essence here," it began, "I will do my best to give a brief version of the story.

"We 'hostiles' spawn without the type of consciousness that you humans have. We do not usually possess a sense of right and wrong; instead, we thrive on two things to survive: pure instinct and a single command - the command to kill. But it's not just humans that we are told to kill.

"You do not know this, but those born with a consciousness are constantly surrounded by a wall of energy… an aura, if you will. Humans cannot see this aura because it is a natural thing for them to have. For us hostiles, however, it is against our very way of life to let such things exist; therefore, from the beginning of time, we were told to exterminate any beings with the aura, and in a desire to aid our quest we were given the ability to see the aura itself."

It paused for a moment, allowing this revelation to sink into Steve's mind. He instinctively bit his lip and winced, realizing he had been chewing on it the entire time. "So I have an 'aura', as you said?"

"Correct."

"And you can see it?"

The creeper nodded. "I can."

"What does it look like?"

The creeper peered at him with a strange look on its face, making him feel more than a bit uncomfortable. "Imagine an electric wave of water, as blue as the ocean and as bright as the morning sun, swirling around you like a thick cloud of smoke. That is what I see. Of course…" It paused and tipped its head to one side. "Yours is noticeably brighter than…"

Steve blinked. "Than what?"

"…Than mine."

"Wait, what?" Just as soon as he was beginning to understand what the creeper was saying, that grasp of knowledge suddenly slipped away from him. "I thought you said that hostiles don't have an aura - you're a hostile."

"That I am," it agreed, "but at the same time, I am different.

"You see, I spawned in the protected shade of a forest one especially dark night, just like a normal creeper would. But from my very first thought, I could tell that there was something… abnormal about me. It wasn't some sort of major physical defect or anything; it was more of a feeling I had. I didn't have the urge to seek out the aura possessors and kill them - far from it. I had no intention of doing anything to harm anyone. But that wasn't all.

"Apart from any reports of aura sightings, we hostiles usually just ignore one another; however, one by one, those who were also in the forest I spawned in found their eyes drawn to me - I can still remember the shocked expression on their faces. And then that expression contorted into one of hate… and loathing." It shuddered as it recalled the event. "They formed a line in front of me and began to close in, almost as if they were planning to attack. _'But why?' _I wondered. They weren't supposed to attack one of their own; only the aura-possessed were to be killed. But then I thought of something…

"What if humans weren't the only ones who could possess an aura?"

Steve felt chills run down his spine in spite of himself. The question hung in the air like a dense fog, refusing to leave even when the creeper continued his story.

"I needed to find out if my suspicions were really true, so I turned and ran as fast as I possibly could until I hit a river. The moon shined upon its clear waters as I examined my distorted reflection, and a hostile's worst fear was brought to life. That same wispy, blue ring of light that was being sought after in this world outlined my entire body, and I realized that I was no longer the hunter but the hunted… excuse that overused line… it seemed only fitting.

"Anyway, that night I began an exhausting, deadly game of hide-and-seek, constantly hiding in fear of being found and slaughtered. There were many close calls had and many sleepless nights spent, where I would ponder my next move.

"The only comfort I found in having an aura was having actual intelligence. I could feel real emotions. I could think for myself. I could actually outsmart my enemies' movements with real wits, not just by a given order from an invisible commander. I almost felt, dare I say, like a human - like you. Of course, what I know about humans is little, but I know enough to say that you can do some wonderful things.

"But I apologize; I'm getting off track! I haven't even told you my real reason for coming here.

"It was just a few days ago when it happened; I was being chased after by a couple of skeletal archers across a seemingly endless field. It was dark and quite difficult to see anything, which explains why I didn't see the large hole in the ground. I fell right into it, scraping myself on its rocky, jagged sides along the way." It winced for effect. "When I came to, my head was bleeding from a nasty cut I assume I received on the way down. The loss of blood made me dizzy and blurred my vision, but I could still see that I was in some sort of cavern… a man-made one."

Steve's heart lurched in his chest. Did this mean that there had been other humans in the past?

The creeper continued. "I was relieved to see that the torches along the walls still glowed with a faint light, making it impossible for hostiles to spawn in the area; I was safe for the moment.

"Looking closer at the walls, I saw that symbols had been meticulously etched into them at one point in time. My eyes followed them along one wall until they reached a corner, where a shrine had been set up. It was a peculiar-looking thing, consisting of a large stone with a scarlet cloth resting on it; on top of the cloth there lay a small, circular stone, dark blue in color. It was perfectly polished and very beautiful; I couldn't take my eyes off of it.

"Suddenly, it began to emit a glow, and I heard a voice coming from within it. It uttered the same message I revealed to you and then fell silent."

_There is great evil afoot, far beneath the crust of the earth… where the dark things lie. The wicked shall rise up and overthrow the fair. The world is doomed to die._ Steve recalled the words in his mind and nodded. For some reason, he was beginning to believe the creeper.

"I didn't believe that there was really a voice coming from the stone at first," it said hesitantly, "but then yet another bizarre thing happened. I heard a low rumbling sound, and the cavern itself began to shake as if a great earthquake had struck. I whirled around, only to find that the symbols on the walls were now glowing - and morphing!

"When the trembling of the earth subsided, I saw to my surprise that the symbols were no longer symbols; they were letters - letters of your language. And what was even more odd was the fact that I could read and understand those letters! What I read was simply this:

"Find the human."

"Oh my…" Find the human? What did it mean? "So you came to me?"

"Yes. It took a few days of careful hitchhiking, but I eventually saw the light coming from your house and thanked the Higher Ones that my journey was finally over. I have found you, human, and I now ask for your help in vanquishing this unknown evil. I am still mightily confused from all that has happened in the past few days, and many of the pieces to this puzzle are still missing - I do not even know where to go or what to do in the least - but I do know that our very lives are at stake here. Call it a creeper's intuition. Please help me. You are this world's only hope; I can feel it."

Steve gulped uneasily. This was a large burden being placed on his shoulders; he wasn't sure if he was up to the challenge.

_The world is doomed to die._

He definitely couldn't let that happen. This was the only life he had, and after all of this time, he felt like it was just beginning. He couldn't let it end now. Not like this.

He hesitated for a minute, thoroughly weighing the odds. If he agreed to assist this creeper, he would be in danger. If he refused and let this evil whatever it was take over, then he would be in danger. He now knew what it was like to be in between a rock and a hard place.

Then he came to his senses. _Look at you_, he scolded himself. _Is this really the same person who washed up on the shores of this earth with no memory whatsoever and still managed to get to where he is now? You can do this; you've come a long way._

That he had.

He sat up in the chair and looked this unusual creeper straight in the eye. "I'll do what I can to help," he declared with what (he hoped) sounded like true confidence.

The creeper's eyes shone with tears of relief. "Thank you, human!" he cried joyfully. "I cannot even begin to express my gratitude for your kindness. I will find some way to repay you for this benevolence; you mark my words. I am forever in your debt."

Steve smiled at it for the second time today. "No problem," he replied. "But please stop calling me 'human'; my name is Stephen - Steve for short."

The creeper nodded vigorously. "Yes. Steve. Got it."

Steve was about to say something else, but then he thought of a question he wished to address. "Do you have a name?" he asked.

The creeper shook its head. "No. Hostiles are merely spawned for the purpose of assassination. We do not get the privilege of having a name."

"Oh." He contemplated it. "How about 'DC?'"

"DC? What does it stand for?"

"Different creeper. You're a different creeper."

"Oh! I like the sound of that." It nodded approvingly.

"Good." Steve looked at the clock hung above the fireplace. "Well, it's nighttime right now, so we should probably get some rest. Tomorrow we'll set out for that cavern you discovered and get some answers. I have two beds in my room, so you can use one of them."

"Okay." The creeper allowed Steve to show him to his room, and the two fell asleep almost instantly, worn out from the tiring conversation that had taken place.

And thus began the adventures of Steve and the newly-named DC.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When Steve awoke the next morning, he almost forgot about DC entirely, thinking the whole event had merely been a dream. But when he arose from his bed and saw the familiar creeper looking out the window in the front room, he remembered otherwise.

Ah, yes; today they were going to further examine the cavern DC had stumbled across a few days ago. He didn't exactly know what to expect from the expedition, but he was hoping to find out what - or who - exactly was posing such a huge threat to the world, as DC had mentioned so frantically. Surely he could find the answers or at least a clue at that cavern. There was only one way to find out.

He entered the front room. "You're up awful early," he greeted.

DC spun around. "Ah, you're awake. I'm not used to sleeping at night, so I got up to watch the sun rise."

"I see."

"Besides, my wound was throbbing rather harshly; it sort of kept waking me up."

"Oh, yeah, your wound. Let me get something for that. Hmmm… let's see here…" He looked around the room for something that could serve as a temporary bandage. Then his gaze turned to his own shirt, which he had produced from some thinned-out wool after his old shirt had become too… holey. "Be right back." He disappeared out of the room.

DC was about to ask where he was going, when he re-emerged from his bedroom, holding another one of his makeshift shirts. "Here we are."

"Wait, you don't have to -" But it was too late to protest; Steve had already ripped off both sleeves of his only other shirt. He tied them together with a tight knot and wrapped the "bandage" around DC's head.

He stepped back, quite proud of his work. "There we go. Is that at all better?"

DC was a bit startled at his spontaneous decision to suddenly tear up his clothes. Were all humans like this? "Y-yes," he stammered. "Yes, that is a bit better. At least it will stop the bleeding."

"Good. So are you ready now to take me to that cavern you talked about?"

"If you think it will help to see it for yourself."

"It will." He turned and headed for his storage room. "I need to go pack a few things before we leave; I have a feeling this trip is going to take a bit longer than expected."

"I will wait."

It took a few moments for Steve to gather the necessary supplies; everything in the cramped space was so unorganized, every block and tool shoved into chests in hopes that it would do until he could add on to the room. _I never did built that extra storage room, _he realized. _That'll have to wait until I return._

He carefully thought out what he needed to bring. He would need tools, of course; he rummaged through a couple of chests, pulled out a handful of iron ingots and sticks, and hastily crafted a few pickaxes and shovels - an axe wouldn't necessarily be needed for this journey, seeing as how he could easily punch down a tree or two with his fists if needed. Weapons were also mandatory; he pulled out his trusty iron sword from its sheath connected to his belt and examined it closely. Only a couple of minor scratches blemished its otherwise pure surface; it could definitely hold out for the trip. He put together a stack of arrows for his bow but was faced with a slight dilemma; there was no way he could carry all of them. Then he spotted a few leather hides hiding in one of the chests, and an idea struck him. He pulled out the leather and molded it into a cylinder shape, forming a rudimentary quiver. With this problem solved, he went along with his mental checklist, constructing some torches and cooking some meat.

As it roasted in the furnace, he wondered if DC would even eat it; never before had he actually thought about what creepers ate. Perhaps they didn't eat real food like him; what if they ate something like gunpowder? Or did they eat anything at all? So many questions he wanted to ask. At one point, he thought he had known everything there was to know about Minecraftia; now he was beginning to think he knew nothing at all.

DC's eyes grew large when he saw Steve return with the heavy bulk of materials strapped to his torso. "Can you carry all of that?" he asked timidly.

"Of course I can," Steve replied with a grunt. "I'm used to it."

"…Are you sure?"

"Well, maybe it couldn't hurt if you carried the food pouch and the torches." As he strapped the backpack-like pouches to his travel companion, he couldn't help but feel relieved at some of the weight being taken off; porkchops really were a lot heavier in number. Then he remembered what he wanted to ask. "Um, you do eat meat, don't you?"

"Of course. Who doesn't?"

"Just checking."

"Ah. Are we ready to go, then?"

Steve opened the door and gestured for DC to go first. "Lead the way."

A gust of cool wind greeted them as they emerged from the cozy house. Steve breathed in the deep, refreshing air, feeling energized and ready for whatever might come to the two. The weather this morning was certainly more pleasant than the storm that befell on the earth the previous day.

He walked beside DC, noticing he was watching their surroundings with a watchful eye. "I wouldn't worry too much about other hostiles," he assured him. "Either they've all burned up or retreated back to the caves by now. We should be reasonably safe."

"Mm-hm." DC didn't seem convinced. Of course, Steve remarked to himself, he did have every reason to be cautious, and maybe even a little suspicious. After all, he had been rejected - and even hunted after - by his own kind. It must have been a horrible ordeal for him to go through. Steve couldn't imagine what he himself would have done in that situation - imagine having to turn to the enemy for help. He shuddered.

The pair talked as they traveled; DC eventually loosened up and became more than willing to answer any questions Steve might have about life on the other side, and Steve, in return, answered DC's questions about life as a human.

"How did you know so much about auras and such, even though you spawned just a few days ago?" he asked.

DC tilted his head in thought. "No one is entirely sure, but if I had to make a guess, I would suppose that sort of knowledge is in our blood, as is our inclination to obey the command to kill."

"So someone commanded you hostiles to kill people like me?"

"No, not a specific entity, or at least one that I have ever heard of or met. We just sort of… know, from the time we spawn on the earth, that we must obey. It's our intuition, our _instinct_. Like your instinct to survive. How exactly did you come across this land, anyway?"

_I can't count how many times I have asked myself that same question_. "I don't know, really; I woke up one day on the shore, all wet and cold and without a single memory - except for my name, of course."

"You can't remember anything before that?"

"Not a single thing."

"How peculiar… and very unfortunate. Your first night must have been terrifying."

Steve gave a short laugh. "Oh, yeah, it certainly was. Not to mention confusing. I mean, I had absolutely no idea what to do; I had approximately five minutes before nightfall to quickly gather enough wood just to make a four-by-two crude hut - and some of the gaps had to be filled in with dirt. You should have seen it; it was a mess. So was I."

DC chuckled in amusement. "I can imagine."

The two continued to chat like old acquaintances as they walked all day. It occurred to Steve that, although DC was a creeper, he acted much like a human; he was very articulate and well-mannered for someone who had spawned in the wild. If anything, he was more well-mannered than Steve himself.

He quickly reminded himself that DC was merely looking for an aide in his quest to vanquish the evil below; he hadn't come to Steve's house in pursuit of a friend. _This is strictly business, not a tea party,_ he told himself. _You'd better take this seriously, or you're going to end up digging your own grave._

As soon as the sun gave its first signs of setting, DC stopped. "Ah, there it is!" he cried. "Over there, in the distance; do you see that large hole?"

Steve shaded his face from the blinding sun with one hand and looked in the direction DC was staring at. Sure enough, a long, jagged crater in the ground could be seen. "We're here already?" he asked. "You made it sound like it would take us a week."

"It almost did, for me," DC admitted. "I could only travel during the day since the hostiles would search for me at night. Also, this time I roughly knew where the cavern was located; I had to actually search for your house, seeing as how I had no idea where it was before now."

"Oh. Well, let's see what we can find in there, shall we?"

"Of course."

They approached the circular hole within a few minutes. Steve stood on the edge and tentatively peered down into the darkness. "You fell from all the way up here?"

DC nodded, grimacing in remembrance. "I would be careful, if I were you; it's a long drop."

"Hm. Well, what we can do is carefully dig a stairway down until we reach the bottom. Oh, and here." He reached into DC's torch pouch and pulled out a torch from it. "I don't really know how you're going to be able to hold this, but digging is going to take two hands for me, and seeing as how it is getting kinda dark…"

"I can hold it in my mouth," DC offered.

"You sure?"

"Mm-hm."

DC took the torch in his mouth, providing a light source for Steve, who was trying his best not to laugh at the sight. "Thanks," was all he managed to get out.

He hurried to carve a safe staircase in the sides of the cavern with his pickaxe as the sun gradually descended upon the horizon, darkening the atmosphere around him. Now this was more like it. The familiarity of mining was something of a comfort to him. Hearing the soothing "clunk" of the pick's sharp edge connecting with the hardened rock conducted him as a maestro would an orchestra; he'd raise the pick, swing down with perfect precision each time, always hitting his target - and then he'd repeat the same movement, over and over, until finally he broke through another foot. On with the next block he would silently continue, without a grunt of discomfort or a sigh of weariness; he was an expert, and his body was trained to perform such tasks with ease.

DC watched as he went about with his pick, mesmerized by his skills… and somewhat jealous. "I wished I had arms to do what you humans can do," he said, his voice slightly muffled by the torch in his mouth.

Steve turned to look at the wistful look on his face; he wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing.

By the time the two reached the bottom of the cavern, night had fallen, enveloping the sky in a blanket of shadows. DC reclaimed his place ahead of Steve and ushered him away from the opening of the cavern, into the rune-covered hallway, where Steve used some of the stone he collected to block the entrance. They were safe.

"The runes… they've returned to their natural state," said DC. "I wonder why."

Steve observed the runes closely; as DC had said, they had obviously been carved into the wall with great care. Still, there was no sign of anything written in a language he might understand. At least he knew that DC's tale was a truthful one up to this point. Who's to say the runes hadn't changed in appearance at all? Steve had seen stranger things in his days. "Perhaps we should keep moving," he suggested. "You said there was a shrine with a stone on it?"

"Yes! The stone," DC exclaimed. "It spoke to me; I swear it did. Maybe it has something else to say. It was this way; follow me."

Steve hurried to keep up with his anxious pace. Suddenly, the hallway opened up to a room. And in the corner of that room was a large stone with a scarlet cloth resting on it. But there was one thing missing.

In shock, DC's mouth opened, and the torch tumbled from it onto the ground, clattering as it smacked against the stone floor.

"The stone…" he whispered. "It's not there."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"I don't understand." DC was in a state of panic. He stared at the empty shrine in disbelief, trying to process the situation. "The stone… it was right here… I saw it with my own eyes. Why is it not here?"

Steve could understand his distress; after all, stones didn't just get up and move on their own. "You're sure it was on top of the shrine?" he asked.

"Yes! I remember as if it were yesterday. There's no mistaking it. It _was _here, and now it's not."

"So that means…"

"It was taken."

A hard lump formed in Steve's throat, making it hard to breathe. Who - or what - would take the stone? There were no other humans besides him, and he didn't think any hostiles would be after such a thing. Someone knew they were looking for it. Someone stole it.

Something caught the corner of his eye. "What is that?"

"What is what?"

"That." He reached over and pulled away the scarlet cloth, revealing a piece of paper that had been hidden beneath it. It was a note. It was addressed to him. He picked it up and read aloud:

"I know who you are, but you definitely have never heard of me; I have been watching you from a secret place, hidden away from sight. You were after something, something of which you know nothing about. I however, do; that is why I took the liberty of taking it. This world is mine, and there is nothing you and your pathetic creeper friend can do about it; you might as well give up and go home. However, if you feel brave enough, why not come over and have a little chat with me? Perhaps I could explain a few things… that is, if you manage to get out of here alive; let's just say I've hidden a nice surprise in here for your enjoyment.

"I'll be waiting for you - in hell." With that said, he folded the note in half and put it in his pocket. "Well, that's just great. We now have an unidentified stalker watching our every move, and on top of that, he stole that stone we were looking for. Could things get any worse?"

DC remained silent.

"What's the matter?"

"What did he mean by a 'surprise'?"

"I don't -"

He was interrupted by a deafening rumbling sound that made him cover his ears in pain. The cavern shook with a mighty ferocity, forming cracks on its walls.

It was a trap. They had been set up.

Suddenly, the ground crumbled to pieces beneath their feet, and they tumbled into darkness. Steve cursed his mysterious enemy before hitting the ground with a thud.

For an excruciatingly long time, his shaken corpse lay on the floor amongst the rubble, battered and bruised. His mind fought a battle between consciousness and unconsciousness, threatening to fall into shock. Eventually, he somewhat came to his senses, and the reality of the situation alerted him.

"Ugh…" He groaned as the pain greeted him with a sullen ache. He didn't bother to open his eyes; it hurt too much to even try. Every muscle quaked and shuddered in pain, every bone cracked and creaked with each effort to get up. He couldn't move. It was too much.

He tried calling out to DC, but he couldn't form the words. All he could do was breathe, and that was a difficult task all on its own; he was surprised he was still alive.

They must have fallen quite deep in the earth; the air was chilling and smelled strongly of soil. Hopefully they weren't too far down that they couldn't dig their way back up.

_Get up,_ he thought. _You have to get out of here. You have to make sure DC is okay._

His aching body deeply protested, but he somehow managed to prop himself up on a bruised elbow. An eye opened, and then the other.

Darkness.

Panic rushed through him. Had the impact rendered him blind? He waved a hand in front of his face, but he saw nothing. _Great, _he thought. _Just great._

He swallowed a growing lump in his throat and attempted to speak again. "DC?" he weakly called out. "Are you there?"

A soft groan could be faintly heard a yard or so away. He decided to try again. "DC? Is that you?"

"Ow, my head… Steve, are you alright?"

Steve let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I'm fine - just really sore. I can't see anything, though."

"Really? I can hardly see a thing, either; I can just barely make out your outline. I guess creepers must have better night vision than humans."

"So I'm not blind?"

"I doubt it."

_Thank goodness_. "How are we going to get out of here?"

"It depends; I think I see a cave extending from this room we fell in, but can you walk?"

Steve winced as he forced himself to his feet. "Yeah. I've suffered worse injuries before. You still have the pouches, right?"

"Yes. Here, I'll come to you."

"Where?"

"On your left."

He reached out and felt for the pouch that held the torches. Once he found it, he took one out and lit it. A warm ball of light illuminated the room, bringing some comfort to the two. That comfort was short-lived, however, when Steve held the torch above him and saw just how far they had fallen.

"Wow… We're never going to get back up that way," he murmured.

"Maybe the cave I saw leads to the surface," DC suggested.

"Couldn't hurt to try." _It's not like we have any other choice._

The cave was more of a rough tunnel that looked suspiciously unnatural. As they traveled through its twisting path, both Steve and DC had an unnerving feeling that it was another part of their opponent's trap.

This suspicion only intensified when they reached a point where the tunnel split off into five smaller tunnels.

Steve's jaw dropped; he refused to believe what he saw. "You've got to be kidding me."

DC was equally at a loss for words. "Five tunnels… There's no doubt that this is all part of 'his' plan."

Steve held the torch to each tunnel, searching for any signs of danger. "It's no use," he eventually said. "They all look the same. I think we have no choice but to just pick one and see where it goes."

"Oh dear…"

He picked the one on the outermost left side, using the torch in his hand as a guide. DC followed closely behind him, glancing back at the large tunnel nervously.

The path would either lead them to safety, or a death trap.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Steve and DC stepped lightly, careful to watch their step. The winding tunnel was narrow and had many jagged edges, sharp enough to pierce through any flesh that lost its footing. Their nerves were on end; they'd flinch at every sound. Droplets of water fell from the ceiling and splashed against the ground, the sound reverberating against the hollowed walls. It was cold - very cold - and difficult to see through the thick fog. There almost seemed to be a slight breeze blowing across the tunnel, although there was nothing that could have caused it. Spider webs covered the area in thin strands of sticky silk.

The elevation dropped slightly at every turn, sprouting seeds of doubt in Steve's mind. Perhaps this wasn't the best path to choose; wouldn't a tunnel to the surface rise _upwards_?

Something hissed, stopping him dead in his tracks. DC opened his mouth to say something, but Steve shushed him; he recognized the hiss. "Spiders," he whispered. He peered into the darkness before him and could've sworn he saw a metal crate gleaming at him.

A mob spawner.

He hardly had time to react before three fanged, eight-legged creatures appeared out of nowhere and leapt at him with an agility that only spiders could possess. He drew his sword and stabbed the first one through the gut as it jumped for his head. The other two were easily slain with a couple of swings.

Then four more appeared.

He struck the first two, but the third saw its opportunity and latched itself onto his leg. He stumbled backward and fought the fourth one off before shaking himself free of the third.

"Get back," he told DC. "I need to destroy the spawner before more appear."

DC's eyes widened in fear. "Behind you!"

"Agh!" Steve dropped his sword and fell to the floor as something attached itself to his back. A horde of spiders crawled onto him, screeching angrily. He yelped as one sunk its teeth into his leg and held on with a fierce grip. The other spiders followed quickly - first an arm, the neck, and then his torso, until his entire body was covered in bleeding spider bites. The more he struggled under their weight, the more they bit; he could feel the poison slowly reaching his blood stream, a sickly warm feeling spreading out in his veins.

DC, too, was struggling to fend of a few of the bigger spiders, but they seemed to leave him unharmed; they merely shoved him away from Steve. He'd hiss in frustration, only being able to watch helplessly as Steve screamed with every new bite. He couldn't explode; not only would it be the end of him, but in the process he would probably kill the human as well.

Steve was beginning to think it was over; then he saw his sword a few feet away from him, lying on the ground. He reached out with a wounded arm, stretching until he could hear the joints popping. _Just a little more, _he thought. _You can do it._

Finally, he felt his fingers touch the metal handle of his weapon. Feeling a surge of strength rush through him, he leapt to his feet and shook off as many spiders as he could. The blade pierced through the skulls of the ones foolish enough to cling to him. Not allowing himself to rest for even a second, he dashed over to DC and quickly took care of the remaining spiders before pulling out his pickaxe and shattering the spawner with a mere three blows. With the threat removed, he wiped the sweat from his brow and sank to his knees, breathing heavily.

DC came to him. "Are you alright?"

Steve nodded wearily. "I think so… Dang, that was a lot of spiders."

"I'm so sorry. I should have been able to help you."

"Don't be ridiculous. You were in a predicament of your own back there; there was nothing you could do."

"All those spider bites… You're covered in them!"

Steve glanced down at his clothes, which were now soaked in blood and spider spit. "I'll be fine. Seriously, don't worry about it; we're safe now, right? We need to keep moving."

"If you say so…"

After a few more deep breaths, he got to his feet and picked up the torch he dropped. Beyond the spawner, there was only a dead end, so he and DC turned around and returned to the main cave.

The question now was what path to choose next; the first one had obviously been the wrong one, and Steve didn't want to run into the same problem in the future. He didn't think he could handle it.

DC sensed his hesitation. "How about I go first this time?" he offered.

"Yeah… thanks." Steve was happy to oblige. He let DC lead the way into the second tunnel. His wrapped his hand around the handle of his sword in its sheath, ready for battle at any given moment.

This tunnel was noticeably straighter than the first one. It lacked many of the sharp turns that made up its previous counterpart. The fog was also thinner, allowing them to see better. The further they ventured into the tunnel, the warmer the temperature became, until Steve found himself sweating from the heat. A bubbling could be heard in the distance, as if a thick liquid was being melted. As they drew closer to the sound, the fog disappeared altogether, uncovering a large pit of red-hot magma that blocked their path.

DC hissed as a spark flew up from the pit and landed on his foot, slightly singeing it. "We're stuck," he said. "There's no way to cross; we may as well turn back now."

Steve wasn't so sure. "There must be something ahead of here; the idiot who wrote us the letter must have set this up, as he did the mob spawner. He's just testing us."

"But how do we get across? We can't just sprout wings and fly."

"Hold on. I think I still have a few pieces of cobble in my bag that we can use to step on." He rummaged in the pack and managed to find just enough to make a narrow bridge. Carefully, he lay them down over the magma and gently tapped on one with his foot to make sure it was secure. Once satisfied, he signaled for DC to follow. "All clear; let's go."

Steve was right; a little ways from the lava, there was a small chest waiting for them. Opening it, he found that it was absolutely empty. He sighed in frustration, beginning to think the note writer was toying with them.

Just like the first tunnel, the second one proved to be nothing but a dead end. They returned to the cave, somewhat disappointed but still relieved that it hadn't been nearly as dangerous as before.

They didn't get very far in the third tunnel. The straight path narrowed until there was only room for one person to go at a time. Eventually, they were stopped by an odd-looking, locked door that was made from an unbreakable black substance.

Steve immediately recognized the material. "I saw this stuff when I dug too far down in my first mining shaft - it's bedrock."

"Oh… Well, can't we just dig around it?"

"Maybe… oh, wait." He held the torch up to the walls, and they were both shocked and dismayed at the sight; the entire tunnel was made out of bedrock. This had to be the way to the surface; there was no way it wasn't.

"We'll come back to this later," decided Steve. "The other two tunnels might have something we can use to open the door."

Once again, they returned to the large cave that was becoming a familiar landmark to them. This constant back-and-forth traveling was becoming a nuisance, but what choice did they have?

As they entered the fourth tunnel, Steve noticed he had acquired a slight headache since his encounter with the spiders. Was the poison in his system beginning to work? If anything, he was surprised that he hadn't dropped dead by now from all of the bites he had received. He shook all thoughts of it from his mind; they really needed to get out of here.

They made a right turn, and the tunnel suddenly opened up to a small room. The right wall led to what Steve assumed was the fifth and final tunnel. In the room's center was another small chest surrounded by three different mob spawners set in a triangular formation - one for spiders, one for zombies, and one for skeletal archers. Steve cringed.

"I'm sure something is in that chest," he whispered to DC, almost fearing he would awaken the spawners if he spoke too loud, "but I don't want to get too close." He took a few steps back, but he soon found himself bumping into a wall. Turning around, he saw that the rest of the tunnel had somehow been blocked off by bedrock. "Shoot," he muttered. Trapped again.

The spawners began to give off a fiery glow, and in the blink of an eye, an entire pack of hostiles emerged from thin air, growling and thirsty for blood.

Steve wasn't going to deal with this a second time. "Run for it!" he yelled, darting for the chest. He drew his sword in an instant and swung violently at the hostiles in his path, skillfully taking care of a few of them. Once he reached the chest, he threw it open and was relieved to see a lever resting inside. He grabbed it and followed DC into the fifth tunnel, blocking off enemy attacks on the way. Neither of them stopped until they followed the tunnel all the way back to the cave.

"We did it," huffed DC, out of breath.

"Yeah." Steve looked at the lever in his hand. "I guess this is going to open up that door for us. Let's go."

Back at the third tunnel, he placed the lever on the wall adjacent to the door and flipped it, holding his breath in anticipation. Only when the door opened did he exhale and relax his muscles.

The door opened up to reveal a small room with ladders going up the side of a dirt wall. Next to the ladders was a note pinned to the wall. Steve sighed and picked it up.

"If you are reading this, then you obviously must have found your way here past the obstacles I have set up. Oh, don't worry; I know that was quite the simple test. I just wanted to slow you down a bit, have some fun. You haven't forgotten my offer, have you? I'm still waiting. Of course, I would hurry if I were you; it doesn't take too long for the maddening effects of spider venom to take effect.

"Hurry up, Stephen. Time is running out."

DC looked worried as Steve crumpled up the note in disgust. "You did get bitten quite a lot... Maybe we should rest and find an antidote for the poison before it gets too bad."

"We can't!" Steve protested. "You heard the guy; time _is_ running out. It won't be long before he decides to do whatever the heck it is he's planning on doing. We're going to find this guy and get some answers out of him, and then we're going to put a stop to his stupid plan. We can't stop just because I got a little spider bite."

"But, Steve -"

He put up a hand to silence him. "No buts. C'mon, DC, we gotta get going."

"…I suppose you're right…"

"Don't worry about a thing; he was probably just exaggerating about the 'maddening effects' thing. Honestly, I'll be fine."

DC took a deep breath. "Okay. Now, how am I going to get up there? I can't climb ladders."

Steve took out some string from one of his bags. "We'll use this."

"String? Where did you… oh, the spiders."

"Yeah. It looks pretty strong, so if I take a few strands and put them together…" He did so and tied the ends with a knot. "I'll tie this around you and pull you up as I climb."

"You're quite the resourceful miner."

Steve smirked. "I know."

It didn't take them very long to reach the surface; Steve found that creepers were actually quite lightweight to carry. Night was once again falling when they set foot on the grass; apparently an entire day had gone by while they were stuck in the cavern. A mountain was close to their location, so Steve mined a fair-sized hole in its side to make a shelter for the night. Once that was done, he sat down in the corner and leaned wearily against the wall, closing his eyes. The cool, smooth stone felt good against his pounding head, which felt unnaturally hot when he put his hand to it. In fact, his entire body felt warm and clammy, not to mention heavy and limp. Was it the poison?

"Are you okay?" DC asked timidly.

Steve groaned, keeping his eyes closed. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'm just tired."

"Maybe you should eat something."

"Ohhh…" He couldn't bear to think of food; his stomach felt queasy. He curled up in a ball in a vain attempt to ease the pain. It seemed that the symptoms had caught up with him when he sat down to rest. Usually he was so healthy, but now… now, he felt horrible.

DC watched him with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"…No." Steve coughed and curled up even tighter. "I'm not okay."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Steve coughed and gasped for air; it felt as though someone was squeezing his throat and sitting on his lungs. He shivered, even though his entire body was sweltering and sweating with fever. His muscles cramped as blood pounded through his shrunken veins, and there was a strange pulsating sensation he felt around each spider bite. The world around him distorted into unknown shapes, like he was looking through an ever-changing kaleidoscope; the sight was enough to make him sick, but when he closed his eyes to escape it he found no comfort.

DC watched him apprehensively, terrified of the thought that the poison could actually kill him. Steve had been so helpful so far: traveling with him, protecting him from the hostiles, providing him with a shelter… And what did he get in return - a deadly infection that could very well be the end of him? The guilt was almost too much to bear. Why did he have to have spawned as a creeper? Why not something like a zombie, or a skeleton, or even a spider itself? At least they had an attack that didn't kill them afterwards. Creepers were nothing but sentient bombs, albeit ones with legs. If only he could have fought the spiders. Then, maybe, Steve wouldn't be in the painful predicament he was in now. The very thought made DC loathe himself.

"Isn't there anything I can do, Steve?" he asked desperately. "Anything at all? There must be something…"

Steve looked at him weakly. "There is one thing," he said in a scratchy voice.

DC hovered over him eagerly. "Yes! What is it? I can do it. Anything!"

"There is an antidote for spider poison; the ingredients for it can probably be found near our location. Of course, it won't be able to completely heal me with as many bites as I have, but it can be used to temporarily hold off the effects."

"I can go retrieve them for you," DC said. "It's the least I can do."

Steve shook his head. "How can you gather anything when you don't have arms? Besides, it's nighttime now; we need to wait until the morning if you don't want to be killed."

"We can't wait until morning! You're in bad enough shape as it is. I can do this (somehow). Just tell me what I need."

Steve saw the determination in the creeper's eyes and realized it would be useless to argue. "Alright," he gave in. "Listen carefully. First of all, we're going to need a glass jar to put the antidote in, and for that we need sand to smelt; I have enough cobblestone to make a furnace, so we'll just need the sand.

"Besides that, we need a bone to crush into bone meal, a petal from a rose, two stems from brown mushrooms, and a strand of string from a spider to act as a sort of antibiotic."

DC memorized the list. _Sand, bone meal, rose petal, two brown mushroom stems, string. _"Got it," he said with a nod.

Steve struggled to his feet and mined an opening in their shelter before returning to his spot in the corner. "Be careful," he warned.

"I will," DC promised.

The night air was cool and fresh, yet it did not possess the relaxed feeling that a morning breeze would. Though there weren't many hostiles around, DC could spot out a few in the distance. He would have to be careful if he wanted to make it through this unharmed.

The first thing Steve had mentioned was sand, and it just so happened to be the first thing DC saw; there was a small pool of water surrounded by it near the shelter. The only question was how to obtain it. He couldn't just pick it up with non-existent hands.

_Use what you have,_ he thought. _Steve is counting on you._

He had feet - four of them, in fact. Maybe he could use those. Standing in front of the sand, he reached one foot back and propelled it forward against the sand in a little "creeper kick". To his surprise, this method actually worked, producing a block of sand at his feet. Now, how would he pick it up? He still had the pouch of torches strapped to him; he could hold the ingredients in it, but he didn't know how he would get them _in _the pouch.

Then he thought of something. It wasn't the most appealing idea, but he couldn't think of any other way to pick it up. He bent down and grabbed the gritty sand in his mouth, quickly spitting it out into the pouch. It left a nasty taste in his mouth, but at least he now had a way of getting the ingredients. Repeating this new method two more times, he quickly put two more sand blocks in the pouch, mentally checking off sand in the list.

The next thing he needed was a rose petal. It was fairly easy to find one after a bit of walking around; flowers were quite common during this time of year. Once he found a particularly large one (he figured it was safer to bring a large, healthy one than a smaller, wilted one), he picked it up in his mouth and put it in the pouch with a small hiss, forgetting that roses had spiked thorns on their stems.

Two of the three remaining ingredients had to be harvested from hostiles, so DC decided he would deal with them last. That left two brown mushroom stems. Where would he find mushrooms? They usually spawned in shady areas, normally under trees or in a cave. He didn't want to risk exploring a hostile-filled cave for them, so he was left with the only other option of looking under some trees. The problem was, the only trees he could see were located on top of the mountain they had made their shelter in. He'd have to scale it. Creepers weren't exceptionally skilled in that area.

But he needed to do it - for Steve.

He studied the mountain, looking for the best point to start. Deciding that the side to the right of the shelter appeared to be less steep, he began his ascent from there, never looking down; he wasn't too fond of heights. He inched upward at a steady pace, making sure none of his four feet would slip and make him plummet to his death.

At last, the top of the mountain came into view. He hopped up to the summit and began the hunt for mushrooms. There was a multitude of trees around, so he figured it wouldn't be too difficult.

He was right; there was a cluster of four within two minutes of searching. He gathered the entire bunch, just in case.

Now came the tricky part - getting a bone from a skeleton and string from a spider. How would he go about collecting them? He couldn't think of any other way besides confronting the hostiles themselves, and that seemed a little reckless, considering the fact that he was at a major disadvantage here.

His thoughts were interrupted by an all-too-familiar sound, like a group of bones grinding against one another. He felt an arrow just barely whiz by his head, connecting with a tree trunk behind him.

Well, he found a skeleton.

He whirled around to face his attacker, dodging another arrow in the process. Then he heard a hiss. _Oh, not now,_ he thought, glancing over his shoulder at the spider in the tree. _I'm surrounded!_

The skeleton saw its chance and shot another arrow. DC quickly ducked, and the spider behind him screeched in agony as the arrow stabbed through its eye. In a sudden rage fueled by pain, it forgot all about DC and set its sights on the skeleton instead. The two hostiles lunged at each other and began to duel, but the skeleton defeated its opponent with ease, leaving nothing behind but a single piece of string. Satisfied with its victory, it turned back to DC, who had sneakily picked up the string when it wasn't looking.

Without anything to defend himself with, DC had no choice but to dash for the shelter. He hurried down the side of the mountain, half-running and half-sliding to evade the enemy.

Something white flashed in front of his eyes; apparently the skeleton hadn't been so lucky with his footing and slipped. He sighed with relief and collected a bone from its remains when he reached the ground. Double checking to make sure he had everything that had been asked for, he hurried to the shelter with his collection.

When he safely made it inside, Steve blocked the entrance once again. "You made it," he said, the surprise obvious in his raspy voice. "Well done." He relieved DC of the pouch and peered inside. "You got everything, too; I already made a furnace, so I'll go ahead and get started."

He began by smelting the sand into glass; while it was still warm but cool enough to touch, he molded it into a crude jar with shaky hands and set it aside to fully solidify. After waiting for about three minutes, he took the newly-made jar and set it on top of the furnace, allowing it to heat slightly. Next, he took the bone from the skeleton and crushed it under his foot until there was a small pile of clean, white powder in its place; he scooped this up and placed it in the jar, careful to get every last bit.

Once the bone meal had reached boiling point, it slowly morphed into a bubbling liquid, becoming the base for the potion. He quickly poured in the remaining ingredients - first the string, then the mushroom stems, and finally the rose petal. Lastly, he picked up the jar and gently shook it until he was certain everything had mixed together; the potion turned a deep red in color from the rose petal.

He swallowed, hoping he hadn't made a mistake. "Better drink it while it's still hot," he muttered to no one in particular. In one great swig, he chugged the entire antidote and made a face; it tasted disgusting.

DC was, again, amazed at his skills. "How did you learn all of that?" he asked in awe.

"Trial and error," was his short response. He yawned and returned to his corner, exhausted merely from that simple task. "DC?" he mumbled groggily.

"Yes?"

"…Thank you." He said nothing else before drifting into a deep sleep.

DC kept watch until morning, making sure nothing broke in to the shelter while Steve slept. Those words resonated within his mind like a chiming of many bells, filling his heart with more warmth than he had ever felt before.

_Thank you._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Steve opened his eyes the next morning to find that his vision had returned to its normal, clear state, free of the contorting shapes and blurriness that had been present the previous evening. In addition, his temple no longer pounded behind his skull, and he could once again breathe normally. The fever that had ravaged his poisoned body just a few hours ago disappeared in his sleep, leaving him fatigued yet oddly revived. Most of the spider bites had scabbed over, but a few still oozed with a clear liquid and were tender to the touch. He held up one of his hands and flexed the fingers; the muscles were still a bit stiff, but not to the extent that they had been. Pleased to see his health had returned, he steadily rose to his feet and began to stretch.

DC turned at the sound and examined him, a look of shock gradually transforming into relief on his features. "It worked," he said. "It actually worked."

"Yeah." He winced as the joint in one of his knees popped. "I'm still working out the kinks, but I feel a _lot_ better."

The creeper shrieked in delight. "That's wonderful! For awhile, I was worried that you wouldn't… well, you're okay now, so that's what matters. Of course, it might be wise for you to rest before we move on."

Steve shook his head. "There's no time for rest. Besides, I feel perfectly fine now. We should get going while we still have daylight left."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

They pondered over their next move while they ate a quick breakfast. It had been decided that they were to confront the writer of the two notes, but there were no signs of their opponent's presence around them. Without so much as a single clue, they would be left to search a massive world for an entity they knew nothing about.

"Maybe one of the notes will give us a hint," DC suggested.

Steve pulled out the wrinkled parchment from his pocket and scrutinized every word. The second note held nothing but a discourteous taunt, but the final sentence of the first note spiked his interest. "What do you think he meant by 'I'll be waiting for you in hell'?"

DC swallowed the last bit of his meal. "It sounds like he was trying to give us a hint as to where he might be hiding."

Steve frowned. "Well, it's a pretty crappy one. I've never seen anything in this world that was at all 'hellish'."

Silence.

"What's wrong?"

"Well… what if he wasn't in _this_ world?"

He leaned closer in interest. "What do you mean?"

DC shook his head. "Never mind. It's an absurd idea."

"Of course it isn't! Go on. Explain yourself."

He sighed. "Very well. It's just a spur-of-the-moment idea I had, and I'm more than a bit dubious that it's true, but I was thinking that, maybe, there is more than one world here. Actually, 'world' is the wrong word to say - dimension, perhaps? Yes, another _dimension. _Who's to say that all we have is what we can see around us? After all, our enemy always seems to be one step ahead of us; he vanishes just moments before we can catch up. What if there is some secret, alternate dimension that he is hiding in? Somehow, he could be using something to transport himself back and forth between worlds, keeping an eye on us while being able to stay a safe distance away… I don't know. It's just a theory."

"Maybe, but it's possible. I mean, crazier things have happened."

"True… Even so, if this 'alternate dimension' really does exist, then we still don't have a way to reach it. I believe we should…" He stopped mid-sentence and glanced at the closed-off entrance to the shelter. His face held the expression of someone who was trying to hear something.

Steve was thrown off by this sudden action. "What are you -"

"Shhh…" he hushed. "Something is outside."

Outside the shelter? Steve directed his attention to the closed-off entrance of the shelter, where DC's gaze was focused. For awhile, he heard nothing. He almost considered punching a hole in the wall to take a look outside, but he froze when he finally heard it - something grunted.

_What on earth is that?_

The sound couldn't have come from any sort of animal like a pig or a cow; it was too different, too… otherworldly. Steve was positive he had never heard it before.

Another grunt sounded, and with it came the sound of cobblestone being torn away; whatever was making the noise was clawing away at the wall. A section of it gave out, allowing a thick streak of daylight to burst through. Other holes soon developed, destroying the only barrier between the two adventurers and the outside world. As it was being broken down, they could see a group of tall, black figures holding the blocks that used to be the wall with a loose grip; neither one had seen this sort of creature before.

As the final pieces were pushed aside, Steve was frozen in his spot, unable to tear his gaze from the creatures.

They were almost twice his height, and nearly three times as thin. They had no hands or feet, but their limbs were long and stick-like, and they moved with a strict rigidness as if they had no joints. Their heads, Steve decided, were the most frightening; their eyes were a bright purple in color and always seemed to stare straight in front of them, and they seemed to emit some sort of particles in a matching color. No facial expressions were given from the group of these creatures as they looked around the small shelter.

Then their gaze fell on Steve and DC.

Everything seemed to happen at once. DC shrieked and backed up into a corner. Steve drew his sword and lunged at the intruders. Both of them were grabbed by two of the creatures in a cold grip, while the other two stripped them of their possessions, weapons included. Suddenly, their surroundings disappeared before them, and they found themselves standing in the plain they had traveled upon just a couple of days before. But before Steve could focus his sight on anything, the landscape disappeared yet again, being replaced by another grassy location. This repeated a few more times, replacing their surroundings with that of another area. It was enough to make Steve's head spin; his mind had not the time to adjust to such rapid changes. It was as if they were being teleported somewhere.

Finally, the environment stabilized around them, and they stood at the base of a hill which was yet another alien sight to Steve.

"Who are you?" he shouted. "Where are you taking us?" But the creatures remained silent and led their captives up the hill until they reached the top, where a bizarre structure lay.

There was a formation of blocks, as black as the creatures themselves, jutting out of the ground in the shape of a long rectangle. In the center of this rectangle was a glowing, purple substance, swirling and giving off a spooky humming sound. The strange stuff looked as if it had the consistency of water, yet it was suspended in the air between the blocks. Steve and DC were led to this object and pushed into the substance. Before either of them had a chance to run, the environment around them once again began to spin violently. Steve closed his eyes and resisted the urge to hurl. When he opened his eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

This wasn't Minecraftia.

They stood on a mountain that overlooked a world of blood-red mountains, jagged cliffs, and fiery valleys. Sultry winds baked Steve's face and stung his eyes as he blinked at the intimidating landscape around him. Noting was familiar in the least. The place was dark, dry, and very hot. Not a drop of water was in sight. Instead, seas of magma bubbled and sizzled ominously in the great valley below, providing one of only two natural light sources in the entire area; the other was in the form of yellow, glass-like blocks, clustered together in small groups in the air. The type of rock that made up the ground was highly flammable; flames were springing up everywhere, cackling as if uttering a menacing laugh.

In the distance, there was a floating island of sorts suspended above the lake of magma. On top of the island was a massive, brooding fortress made out of a red and purple-toned brick. Surrounding this fortress was a tall, iron gate, guarded by two more of the tall creatures. Cascades of magma spewed out of the sides of the island, pouring into the lake below. All in all, the fortress appeared to be unreachable and impenetrable. Perhaps this was the lair of the enemy?

There was a noticeable lack of entities in this world, and the only group of animals Steve actually saw was yet another unfamiliar one. They slightly resembled the pigs back home, but many features set them apart from the peaceful farm animals he knew. For one thing, they stood on two legs like a human, and each one held a roughly-crafted sword in its deformed hands. Their sickly-looking skin was turning green in the process of rotting, and some parts of it had fallen off altogether, exposing the bone. They grunted and moaned with the pain of a zombie as they marched around aimlessly, some taking a dip into the magma; they seemed to be immune to fire.

Sweat poured down the back of Steve's neck; he wasn't used to such heat. Every breath he took burned its way down to his lungs. He felt as though he had traveled to hell.

_I'll be waiting for you… in hell._

Despite the high temperatures, a distinct chill ran along his spine as he remembered the line from the note. He stole a quick glance at DC; judging by the same stunned expression on his face, he could tell they shared the same thoughts. This must be the world of their enemy. DC's theory was right; there _was_ an alternate dimension.

Suddenly, one of the tall creatures holding them captive lifted its head and emitted a piercing shriek that produced a shrill ringing in Steve's ears. A shockwave of sound blasted through the blistering air, causing a few of the disfigured, pig-like animals to lift their heads in mild interest.

As the sound reverberated against the serrated edges of the mountains, a horrific yet amazing sight greeted Steve. They appeared out of nowhere, floating white specks against the red landscape. As they grew nearer, they grew in size and number, until a horde of them were flying in a single-file line towards them. Their bodies were the usual cubed shape, stark white with a row of gills on either side. Tentacle-like appendages hung from their underbellies, giving them the appearance of flying jellyfish. Their faces, though, were what scared Steve the most; their eyes were fully closed and appeared to be dripping with tears, and a well-defined frown made up their mouths. With that and the combination of their high-pitched, childlike whine, it was apparent that these beasts were not happy in the least.

When the line of these beasts reached the mountain, they arranged themselves so that their bodies formed an extensive, white bridge, connecting the mountain to the floating island. One of the tall creatures stepped onto the back of one of the beasts and glanced behind him. It nodded, as if saying it was time to move. A second tall creature followed, and the two waited for the rest of the group to mimic the action.

Steve gulped, doubting the safety of the situation. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing to keep him from tumbling into the great magma lake below. Were they really supposed to do this?

An impatient nudge from a tall creature behind him signified he should indeed follow suit. "You okay?" he whispered to DC, noticing the creeper was a slightly paler green than usual.

DC swallowed. "I will have to be."

With two tall creatures in front of them and two behind, the pair of adventurers timidly put a foot forward onto the whimpering beasts. Steve was surprised at how soft the body felt beneath his foot. For a minute, he wondered if they suffered any pain of bearing so many burdens on their backs at one time, but another irritated nudge told him to move on.

They moved slowly and surely, keeping a wary distance from the edge. The beast-built bridge was lengthy, and it took a good fifteen minutes to cross it at their slow rate, but they eventually set foot on stable ground again (which was a great relief to both of them). As soon as the last foot was released from the beasts, they scattered as quickly as they had appeared.

The two tall creatures guarding the fortress saw the arrival of the captives and proceeded to open the iron gate, but not without a good struggle; they grunted in pain as their inadequate, scrawny arm muscles strained to pull at the heavy bars. However, the four creatures guarding Steve and DC merely stood and watched with empty eyes, as if it wasn't their place to help.

Finally, the iron gate was open. As the group walked past it and into the fortress, Steve could hear the two creatures grunting and wheezing as they closed the gate behind them.

The inside of the fortress was just as dark and uninviting as the outside. Many of the torches in the front corridor had burned out, and various fungi had taken advantage of the darkness and was growing in the cracked bricks. Surprisingly, though, the air was cool and moist. Steve inhaled the smell of damp clay and relaxed a little, but he knew better than to let his guard down. With nothing but two fists to defend himself and the creeper with, the odds were definitely against him.

The entire fortress, he soon found out, was nothing more than one intricately-weaved maze of identical corridors. Everywhere they turned, there was a four-way intersection waiting for them. They turned right, then left, then another left, then right, then… It was all too much. He was a miner, a crafter, a hunter. Whenever he would explore a cave, he would strategically place torches to his right to help him navigate his way out. Here, there were too many turns they took, too many paths to choose from, and not enough light to see. If there was ever a hope of escaping, they would have to be lucky… very lucky. Steve wasn't one to rely on luck.

They turned right. There was a warm light glowing at the end of the corridor. They had reached their destination, wherever it was.

The corridor led to an awe-inspiring room that looked as though it belonged in a majestic palace instead of a dark, dingy stronghold. It had a floor of glossy lapis lazuli tiles and walls made of pure gold. The bright yellow blocks of light Steve had seen on the outside formed a luminous chandelier in the center of the high ceiling. Rows of tightly-stocked bookshelves were aligned along the walls on all sides. A velvety red carpet split the room in two, leading up to a throne that appeared to be constructed of the same black stone that made up the structure they had used to get here. Sitting on this throne was a hooded figure in black robes. It took awhile for Steve to notice there was someone on the throne at all; his robes blended in too well. His face was obstructed by the hood, but Steve could make out two stark-white, misshapen hands. One rested on the arm of the throne, its skeletal fingers briskly tapping the arm. The other held a wooden staff with a brilliant blue stone on its tip.

DC gasped. "The stone!" he hissed.

The hooded figure stopped tapping its fingers. It let out an amused chuckle, one that sounded more human than Steve had anticipated. "Ah, you recognize this stone, creeper?"

DC shrunk back uneasily, causing the figure to laugh again. "What a pathetic sight to see, a creeper backing away in fear. My now, do I make you nervous? There's no reason to be afraid. After all, I didn't drag you all the way down here just to kill you."

Steve mustered his courage and clenched his fists. "Just who do you think you are?" he asked. "And what do you want with us?"

The figure leaned back in his throne lazily. "My name is Alastor." He took his free hand and swept away the hood. "I want your auras."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm really, **_**really**_** sorry for taking so long to update this. I had a bit of a writer's block moment… actually, more like a writer's block month. It's difficult trying to focus on both writing and schoolwork at once; this homework thing is becoming an epidemic! Anyway, Chapter 9 is finally done, thank goodness. :3 Thanks for all of your reviews so far! I really appreciate it.**

Chapter 9

Steve took a good look at his enemy's unveiled face for the first time, expecting it to be warped with deformities and gruesome mutations that only the most evil of evil could possess. What he saw came as a surprise.

He looked normal enough, with the face of a man who was probably in his early thirties, although there was something about it that made Steve think otherwise. His skin was fair and light, with the exception of his crooked, white hands. A mane of silver hair hung down to his shoulders, glistening with a youthful sheen and curving around the handsome features of his face. A pair of deep-set, teal eyes twinkled playfully at the captives over a sharp nose and smirking mouth. It was difficult to judge how old he was by his looks alone. He looked a bit younger than Steve, but then again, Steve's appearance had been weathered by many long hours under the hot sun; too much exposure to radiation had brought out the wrinkles in his face and toughened his skin until it became leathery. For all he knew, he looked like an old man compared to Alastor. Not that he really cared about looks at this point.

The tiny voice of DC snapped him out of his thoughts. "Our auras? What do you want with our auras? And how do you even know about them?"

Alastor sighed and sat up in his throne. "Of course, you wouldn't know. I suppose an explanation is in store here, yes?"

"You better believe it," Steve shot at him.

"Calm yourself down; I will explain everything as thoroughly as possible. Take a seat."

Something nudged the back of Steve's leg. Turning around, he was greeted with one of the tall creatures holding a wooden chair. It set the chair down behind him and waited for him to sit. Another one did the same for DC.

Satisfied, Alastor waved his hand, signaling the tall creatures to leave. With a robotic bow, they exited the majestic room one by one until none remained. Only then did Alastor speak. "I will warn you right now that this isn't something I can explain to you in a couple of words. In fact, this… conversation, if you will, will be quite lengthy. I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. With that said, allow me to begin.

"Auras…" A grin formed on the corners of his mouth at the word. "What wonderful things they are. The capacity for intelligence, the ability to think… It all lies in the auras. It's all very nice, yes? But I'll bet you both didn't know they serve another purpose to the living. Actually, I suppose you could say they are the very reason we are considered 'the living'."

The two captives glanced uneasily at each other. Neither of them liked where he was going with this.

"Auras not only give you a conscience, but also life itself. They are a form of life energy."

"_What?_" Steve couldn't restrain the outburst brought on by shock. "That makes no sense. There's plenty of creatures in Minecraftia that don't have auras, like farm animals and hostiles. They're alive, aren't they?"

"Perhaps you should let me speak before forming your own conclusions."

Steve squirmed in his seat and fell silent.

"Thank you. Now, you are right about one thing; farm animals certainly don't have auras. They were not made to have them; they live based on instinct and instinct alone, something of which is totally different from true intelligence. They do not rely on a special life force like the intelligent beings do; they were not meant to thrive on knowledge and wisdom. You were wrong, though, in assuming that these 'hostiles', as you seem so keen on calling them, don't have auras, or should I say, that they didn't have them at one point in time."

It was DC's turn to be shocked. "What are you saying?"

Alastor switched his gaze to him. "I'm saying, little creeper, that you do not know as much about the history of this world as you thought you did. So now it is my job to give you two a little history lesson.

"Close your eyes, the both of you, and imagine Minecraftia without its notoriously violent night life - no zombies, no skeletons, no living in fear that something may find its way into your window and murder you in your sleep. For that is what this world was like in the old times, hundreds of years ago. We lived in peace - farm animals, creeper tribes… and _humans_."

Humans.

Humans?

_He didn't say humans… did he?_

_That's impossible._

_Is it?_

Steve felt his chest tighten considerably. His head went numb. He sucked in a breath and forgot to let it out.

"Caught your attention, Stephen?" He chuckled in amusement. "Yes, those were the best times. We lived in cities, you know - big, beautiful cities. Villages, too, and strongholds, mighty fortresses, and the quaintest of little towns. There wasn't anything the crafters couldn't build. Not that we needed fortresses to protect ourselves, because we lived in a world of peace (except for the occasional forest spider - they were always a nasty lot). Everyone worked together for the good of one another, to live, to thrive, to expand the world that our 'mighty god,' the 'great and powerful' Notch, 'Crafter of all crafters,' created for us." He spoke with a sarcastic tone as he mentioned his god. "He gave us a world, and he gave us _life_. He gave us auras. We could think; therefore, we could thrive. And he did the same for your kind, creeper; you were also given auras, in hopes that you would live and think, too. And you did. Humans and creepers existed together in harmony, as friends and as allies."

Both Steve and DC soaked in every word Alastor spoke. It sounded too good to be true. Humans and creepers? Together? In a world with no hostiles? It was mind-boggling, to say the least.

Alastor continued. "Obviously, things must have taken a turn for the worse at some point to have gotten to the state they are in today. Something did occur, after many centuries of normal life. There was a man who came along… a man with some very strange ideas." He tilted his head ever so slightly, and his eyes glazed over in a faraway look. "And an even stranger ability." He spoke in a lower, softer tone. "You see, this man could… perform certain things with the help of auras. From a very early age, he possessed a special gift - the ability to actually _see_ auras."

DC gasped in spite of himself. Alastor raised an eyebrow at the creeper but said nothing about it. He returned to his speech.

"Through his eyes, those who possessed an aura were constantly surrounded by an electric ring of blue light. He also noticed that the older the being became, the dimmer the aura was. Therefore, he made the conclusion that auras were also life energy, and once it was drained over the course of a lifetime, the soul of the one who possessed it would die; after all, we intelligent beings cannot live without a soul.

"This man lived as a recluse for many of his younger years in a small village. His mental state had always been weaker than the average person's because of his gift, and as more and more abilities surrounding auras made themselves known to him, his level of sanity gradually decreased. He found out he could mentally tap into his own aura and 'access', if you will, the database that was his consciousness, his intelligence. He could hear every one of his thoughts aloud, as if a disembodied voice was uttering them. Every action he performed, every slight move he took… he could sense those commands being programmed into his mind before it even happened. But that wasn't all; he could also count how many years he had left in his life and the lives of others. He would sit in his house during the day and peer out the window at the auras of the common passerby; after a great deal of time spent studying the different levels of brightness on the different auras, he could roughly estimate how many years that person had left to live - he was quite accurate, too. Unfortunately, it was the kind of knowledge that was very unsettling for him to learn, for as he reached the age of thirty, he discovered he had only a year to live; his physical health was as bad as his mental health. The news was too much to handle by himself, so he called for his closest friends.

"There were only two friends he had; I was one, and the other was a creeper named Damien of the C'jasst tribe - the man and I always affectionately called the little fellow 'DC'."

Steve looked at his partner so rapidly that his neck cracked painfully. DC's face was immediately erased of any emotion as his mind struggled to make the connection.

There was no way that was a coincidence. No way.

Alastor was too immersed in his own story to pay any mind to his baffled captives. "We were the only ones that knew of his strange gift. He confided in no one apart from us. I can still remember the panic-stricken look on his face as he called us over that day and blurted out his fate. The poor man was in hysterics, and nothing we said or did could bring him any comfort.

"After several long hours of mumbling incoherent strings of sentences, something clicked in his head - an idea. He could tap into his aura; could he tap into someone else's? At first, he wouldn't tell us why this theory was so important to him, but we gladly obliged to help him test it out nonetheless, oblivious to what would happen. He used DC as his first 'test subject' and successfully reached into the creeper's aura, which he found was much brighter than his. He could read every thought his friend was thinking, sense every emotion he felt; more importantly, he now had easy access to his aura, his life energy.

"What happened next was a complete accident on his part and a tragedy for everyone present. To this day, I am still unsure of how it happened. We heard a sound like a rushing wind, and DC suddenly dropped dead, as if his very life had been sucked out of him. Poor, innocent creature hadn't seen it coming. No one had. I think perhaps this is what caused my friend to descend into madness the way he did. After all, he had just committed murder, let alone on his best friend. He stared at the lifeless body in horror, while I could only watch. He then stammered through a series of explanations, trying to justify his crime. 'It was right there,' he told me. 'The aura - I saw it. I reached out. I _grabbed_ it. And then it… fused. It fused into mine.' But then he would deny it, saying it was impossible that he had literally drained the life from his creeper friend, that he took the life of someone else for himself. He kept muttering, 'It was a mistake. Just a mistake,' as he walked over to his mirror and examined his newly-brightened aura.

"As a loyal friend (and his only one at that point), I decided to stay by his side instead of reporting him to the authorities, for such actions would surely cause him to be banished from the village altogether. Therefore, I made a promise to him, that no one would find out about the mishap. We dug a hole in the floor of his house and buried our deceased friend in the dirt before covering it up once and for all. From then on, I stuck by my unstable friend as we went about studying the matter that is the aura… and he slowly continued to lose his mind. Eventually, we both forgot about DC.

"My friend change into a completely different person, one I could hardly recognize. He became very… power hungry - not the sort of power that you use to control others, but the sort of power you use to acquire control over your own life. Think about it; he finally found a way to extend his years and ultimately dodge his fate. He now held no fear of death; he would never need to face it… as long as he continued to supply himself with auras. And so the quest began.

"I suppose you could say I was his accomplice, his sidekick, a partner in crime. I put up with him not only for the sake of any sanity he had left, but also because I was curious of his strange powers. The idea of an extended life and the possibility of immortality was… oddly pleasing to me, not to mention the prospect of increased intelligence. Of course, I didn't tell him this, for I was afraid he would become suspicious and lash out. Until I found a way to acquire the same power he had, I was nothing more than someone to tagalong.

"I came across an old book at the village library a couple of days after the incident. It told of an ancient practice - a sort of meditation, if you will - that could allow you to reach into the deepest corners of your soul and access your aura. The book was in the restricted area; people didn't want someone coming across such a 'dark' and 'evil' idea. My curiosity got the better of me, and I stole the book, taking it back to my house, where I would practice in secret. In just a few short days, I was able to succeed. From then on, I could see the actual aura like my friend could. I had his gift, even if it wasn't one present from birth. I practiced the 'draining' technique (the very one that caused the death of our creeper friend) on myself, extracting a bit of the energy into my hand and focusing it back into myself. I felt powerful. Invincible. I kept all of this a secret from my friend as the two of us carried out our plan.

"By day, we were normal villagers, and by night, _thieves_ - thieves of life. We'd wait for the rising moon, when the village was sound asleep. We crept into their houses one by one. My friend would drain the victims of their auras, while I would keep watch by the nearest window. We didn't bother to hide the bodies; there was no evidence to prove that we were the villains, no evident cause of death. No blood, no screaming, _nothing_. And so we moved on, house after house, until half of the village was gone. My friend refused to stop there; greed had driven him too far to stop. More houses were infiltrated, more people were drained. By morning… there was no one left but us. Everyone was _dead_. Humans and creepers alike. I was beginning to feel rather angry with my friend, but he was having the time of his life. Countless years had been added onto his, and the minds of an entire village resided within his own. He was forever young, brilliant, crafty, and crazy. And he wanted more. No amount of intelligence was enough, and there were never enough years to add on. He wanted more.

"I don't know why I didn't say something. We spent our evenings going from village to village, from city to city, wiping out anyone in sight. It was out of control. My friend was overwhelmed by knowledge and cunning, and the number of years on his life was innumerable; he was becoming more almighty than Notch himself. The god of Minecraftia was being dominated by his own creation. He couldn't simply kill my overpowered friend to end the catastrophe, so he created an alternate dimension and banished us to it, along with the bodies of the ones my friend had drained." He outstretched his arms. "That place was here - the Nether. Hell.

"I was enraged at that point. After all, what had I done wrong? What did I do to deserve this? It was all his fault. We were stuck in a dark, hot, fiery world with no escape, and it was entirely _his_ fault.

"He didn't see it coming; he had his back turned. I focused all of my energy on performing this task correctly, because one wrong move would be my last. In a blinding fury, I took my fist to his head and knocked him unconscious. Then, I stood over him and drained the very life out of him. It took a good couple of hours, but I succeeded at last. My 'friend' was no more, and I… I felt _wonderful_. What wisdom! What energy! Such things I had never felt before - not in such a powerful way.

"I could count how many different auras I had dwelling within me. Each one felt as unique as the person it had belonged to. I isolated my friend's aura in my mind, and to my surprise, I could sense how sorrowful it felt. 'How could it be?' I thought. My friend may have been dead, but his soul was still very much alive - in me.

"Then I noticed an odd-looking stone at my feet - the one that rests on my staff here." He pointed a crooked finger at it. "I was captivated by its beauty, how perfectly round and smooth it was. As I picked it up, I heard a booming voice speak from it. 'Foolish human,' it rebuked. 'You do not know what you are doing. The aura is not something to be toyed with. Because of the corruption you and your friend bestowed upon the earth, I can no longer call Minecraftia a peaceful place; the Overworld has been ridden with the bodies of victims - _your_ victims. I have separated the world into three dimensions to protect my people from harm. The Overworld shall only be used to separate you from them. Forever shall they dwell in the sky with me. Forever shall you burn in hell, with your victims.'

"It was a horrifying message. At least, it should have been; I was more angry than I was scared. How _dare_ he abandon me like that? I wasn't the one to blame! From that day forward, I abandoned _him_ as my 'god.' I have been ruling as King of the Nether ever since. I vowed to take control over all three dimensions, one way or another. This stone allows me to see the goings on of the Overworld; I have been watching you two through it. How you managed to stay in the Overworld, Stephen, I'll never know; I was told that everyone was taken into the sky. And _you_." He waved his staff at DC and furrowed his brow. "I don't know about you, either. Both of you shouldn't be here; you should be in the sky. That I don't understand." He sighed. "Of course, that all doesn't matter now. You're here. You're mine. Powerless."

He stopped to catch his breath after the elaborate story. This gave the two captives a chance to ponder over what had been said. Steve tried to summarize it in his mind.

Minecraftia wasn't at all what he thought it was. There used to be humans? Creepers weren't considered to be hostiles? A peaceful world? It sounded wonderful. But Alastor's friend ruined it all, because he was afraid of death. So here they were, trapped in the Nether dimension under the rule of a nearly-immortal madman. Things weren't looking too good.

But all questions hadn't been answered yet. Steve decided that it was now or never to ask. "If you're stuck here, then what's with that weird purple thing that got us here?"

"Good question, Stephen."

Steve really wished he'd stop calling him that.

"That 'weird purple thing' is a portal. I had my servants, the Endermen, build it for me. They know all about portals."

"The who?"

"Endermen. Those tall, black creatures that escorted you here? Never mind them now, though; they aren't important enough for your concern, believe me. Just know that they are the ones who built it.

"Anyway, I cannot travel through portals. There is some odd force field that is holding me at an arm's length away. It is quite frustrating, to say the least. You could travel here, but I can't. That's just the way it is, I suppose."

"What about hostile mobs? How did they come into existence?"

"Ah, yes. The hostiles. It was a simple matter, really. On the day I saw you wash up onto the shore, I was shocked. And irritated. After all, you were an intrusion upon my soon-to-be perfect world. I needed to get you down here somehow, but there wasn't anyone I could send; I needed to keep the Endermen here at my fortress (I figured they wouldn't be of much use otherwise), and I myself couldn't use the portal. All I had were the rotting corpses, some of which were nothing but bones.

"I got a brilliant idea; it would cost me, yes, but the pros heavily outweighed the cons. Remember how I said I could 'extract' bits of my aura and focus it back into myself? Well, I did the same thing here, but instead of focusing the energy into myself, I focused it into the corpses. Mind you, I only allowed them the slightest amount, an amount that wasn't even visible on the outside; I needed to keep most of it for myself, and I didn't want them being too intelligent to disobey me. What I found out was that since it was technically _my_ aura that was injected into the corpses, I could still control that aura, ergo I could control the corpse itself. I could bend its will to do my bidding, no questions asked.

"I was ecstatic when I saw my minions rise from the ground (I had been a bit skeptic that a pile of bones could still function properly). They were rather stupid, but what could I expect? They would do. I… what's the right word… program? Yes, I _programmed_ them. I programmed them to search for you, the one with the aura. I programmed them to sense any being that had the aura and find them. I sent them through the portal, and they would pop up randomly in any dark spot in the Overworld. They would search. For you. I planned for them to kill you. You were a crafty one, though, always on the move, building shelters and weapons to defend yourself. Because of that, I had a change of plans. I wanted to meet you. I sent my Endermen to the Overworld to get you. And then _you_ showed up!" He once again pointed his staff at DC, who cowered away in fear. "I had never seen you before. My friend didn't drain _you_. You spawned in the middle of a forest… with an aura. It baffled me. It really did. It still does, too." He sighed. "Any more questions?"

Steve looked at DC, and DC looked at Steve. Both of them just wanted to get out of this horrible place. "No," Steve finally answered. "No more questions."

"Good." He stood up and loudly tapped the floor with his staff. The Endermen guards returned to the room, wearily awaiting instructions. "Take them to the cell," he ordered. "Perhaps they'd like to meet my good-for-nothing friend, Herobrine."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The two captives were led through another maze of dark, dingy corridors by the silent creatures called Endermen. Steve found himself wondering about them in spite of himself; Alastor hadn't said much about them and brushed the matter off as if it wasn't the least bit important. He seemed to view them as his servants, nothing more. Where did they come from? Why were they under the rule of such a horrible man? Steve almost wished he had asked, but he had a feeling he wouldn't have gotten much of an answer.

The group turned right and descended one spiral flight of stairs after another. With each step the temperature slightly dropped, and a thin film of fog gradually thickened in the area until one could hardly see a foot in front of his own face. Steve exhaled and watched the frozen trail of his breath swirl in the air. A secure knot had formed in the pit of his stomach, but not because he was anxious or anything; he could feel the antidote wearing off. His body temperature should have dropped with the atmosphere, but instead it was steadily rising. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. _What am I gonna do?_ he thought. Of all the times for something like that to wear off. He took a few deep breaths and willed himself to calm down. Panicking would only make things worse. _Don't think about it. Just don't think about it._

As they reached the bottom of the last flight, they could see that the wide tunnel in front of them was made from the same black rock that made up the portal's frame. They walked along this tunnel, feeling along the wall to guide them; there was no light.

The leading Enderman stopped. Steve couldn't see and bumped into it, causing it to emit a surprised grunt. Had they reached their destination?

The Endermen put their long arms around the captives, and Steve felt the sickening, familiar feeling of being teleported. They appeared to be in a small room, although it was difficult to judge in the darkness. Before he had a chance to say anything, the Endermen teleported out of the room without so much as a second glance. He sighed and ran his fingers along all four walls, looking for an exit. No such luck; they were trapped.

DC whimpered. "I don't like this. Are you here, Steve?"

"Yeah. Can't see anything in this cursed place, though."

"How are we going to get out of here? What are we going to do?"

Steve fought off the oncoming dizziness and sat down against a wall. He stared into the pitch black space, unable to come up with an answer besides, "I don't know."

"I was wrong," murmured the creeper.

"Wrong for coming to me? Of course not."

"No, I mean… my theory was wrong. I thought we hostiles never had an aura; I thought we were merely led by instinct. And to think that they were being brainwashed by that man the entire time. I'm so confused."

"You're not the only one," admitted Steve. "I can't believe those zombies and skeletons were actually living, breathing people at one time - in Minecraftia! Do you really think they're still alive, living in some sky dimension like Alastor said?"

"It's possible. I don't see why he would lie about such a thing."

"Man…" Steve lay his head against the wall and closed his eyes, imagining what a sky dimension would look like.

Something groaned. His eyes popped open.

"…Was that you, Steve?"

He sat up. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Then what made that… oh, dear. Don't move."

"What? Why?"

"There's something sitting next to you."

"Wha-" He looked to his left and saw nothing. He looked to his right, and his eyes suddenly adjusted to the darkness. Indeed there was something next to him - something dressed in bloodstained rags.

It couldn't be… a human?

The gaunt figure was curled up in the corner. Its clothes hung over its malnourished body like a thin, tattered blanket. Its eyes were closed, and its chest would convulse every couple of seconds as it gasped for breath. It appeared to be asleep. As Steve took a closer look, he was the one to gasp. Apart from its skeletal frame and lighter skin, it looked _exactly_ like him. Same tousled brown hair, same eye shape, same nose, same mouth, same everything. Who was this? "Um… excuse me?" he asked.

The figure stirred in his sleep. Steve timidly reached out and tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me?" he asked again. "Are you okay?"

His eyes partially opened, and Steve backed away at the sight. Two white, bloodshot orbs rolled around in their red-rimmed sockets aimlessly, without focusing on anything in particular. He was blind.

Another soft groan escaped the man's lips as he became fully conscious. He squirmed, and winced. "Wh-who…?" he muttered.

Steve relaxed, seeing that the stranger wasn't a threat. "My name is Steve," he said. "I was brought here with my friend, DC; he's a creeper."

"DC? Impossible. DC is…" He shuddered. "My poor, poor friend. I'm so sorry…"

He knew DC? Wait… A speculation formed in Steve's brain. Perhaps this was the man that Alastor had spoken of so severely? "Could you tell me your name?" he asked.

He coughed, sending crimson beads of blood sputtering from his mouth. "At one point, I was referred to as Herobrine. But that doesn't matter now. Nothing matters anymore. I'm doomed. I'm a doomed man. And I brought it all on myself. You." He reached out with a shaking arm and groped around for Steve's shoulder, grasping it lightly. "I don't know you. I can't even see you; my old friend, Alastor (since you're here, I assumed you've met him already) - he blinded me, with the coals from a magma pool. I deserve it, though. I deserve everything that has happened to me, and more. But all of those people - thousands, even millions - didn't deserve their fate. They were innocent.

"Did he tell you? Did he speak of that horrendous calamity? Of course he did. I know he did. It's just like him; he makes for a wonderful storyteller. Did he mention me? Did he speak of my cowardice? That's right; I'm a coward. All murderers are. But I'm the worst. Millions dead, even more taken up from the earth (into the sky! Can you believe it?), and all because I was afraid of my own demise. Yes. I was afraid to _die_. I still am. I mean, what happens to you then? Where do you go? What do you do? Do you merely vanish from the face of the earth, never to be spoken of again? Isn't that an honest fear to have? Maybe so. Nevertheless, it is no excuse for what I have done.

"I lost my mind back there - my sanity. I'm a murderer, but also a thief. But what I stole was more precious than diamonds or gold; I stole lives. And now, my friend has become the spitting image of my character. I've done him wrong, immensely so. He lost his mind as well. He had drained me out of anger, yes, but what he didn't tell you was that he brought me back… slightly. Enough so I could live but not fight back as he tortured me, physically and mentally. He keeps me alive in here for his amusement. He has a lot of anger and frustration - even rage - inside of him, and so he lets it out on me. After all, it was I who caused him such pain. Now the tables have turned, and he is beginning to get the revenge he sought after so fervently. If only there was a way I could redeem myself. If only I could reconcile this feud between us and restore peace to the world. If only…" He whimpered as emotion caught up with his voice. "If only I had just died in the first place. None of this would have happened.

"You wouldn't be here, either, if I had just accepted my fate. I don't know why you were still in the Overworld when my friend discovered you, but I can imagine… Notch must have something planned for you. I know he must. What that is, I do not know. All I can say is that I am sorry… deeply sorry. You don't have to forgive me. You don't even have to believe me. Just don't feel sorry for me; that I cannot allow."

This sent him into a nasty coughing fit, leaving Steve to shortly mull over his short speech.

So this was Herobrine! Steve could hardly believe this was the very man who practically destroyed the world for his own purposes; he looked so battered and weak. It was difficult to imagine a time he held any sort of power when he appeared to be on the brink of death.

For some reason, he didn't feel angry at the man. He should have been, but he wasn't. He didn't pity him either; his actions easily deserved some form of punishment. Still, he seemed to be truly remorseful. Either that, or he was putting on a very convincing act… not that he had any reason to.

More importantly, all three of them were trapped in a dark, cold cell with no doors, no windows, and no visible escape. Alastor had something in store for the captives, and by looking at what was left of Herobrine, Steve estimated it wasn't going to be enjoyable. They needed to get out of here, and fast.

But how?

Steve stood up and walked along the walls of the cell, feeling his hands along the rough stone, daring not to miss an inch. There had to be a way out. A crevice, a weak spot, a small hole he could enlarge. _Anything!_

Frustration kicked in when he found nothing on his first try. This motivated him to go around a second time, sometimes stopping to apply a good amount of pressure on a certain block in hopes of it giving out. He grit his teeth, uttered a low growl in the back of his throat, and went around again, and again, and again. Pushing the blocks turned into punching the blocks, ignoring the sharp pain when his knuckles connected to the stone - it only increased the fury. He punched, kicked, and pounded the stubborn walls, slamming his body against them, crumpling his shoulder and knocking the air out of his lungs. The walls - they were taunting him. He could hear their laughs, daring him to come at them. He roared like a lion and continued to propel himself at the walls, determined not to let them humiliate him in front of the other prisoners.

DC shivered in the safety of the corner, horror-stricken at Steve's sudden change of behavior. Was this normal for humans? He watched him howl in rage and launch a string of curses at the walls. Wait. The walls? He was talking to the walls. Something was wrong. "S-Steve?" he stammered quietly. "Perhaps you should lie down for a bit. I… I don't think you'll be able to get out that way…"

Steve snarled and whirled his head around. DC flinched at the sight of his wild, twitching eyes. There was a significant amount of foam dribbling from the corners of his mouth as well. What was wrong with him?

Then he remembered that Steve had said something about the antidote only being a temporary cure. Of course, at the time he hadn't thought anything of it, being too complacent from the overwhelming relief. Now, he felt that such complacency had been a big mistake on his part.

"Steve," he pleaded, "you must rest! The poison, remember? It's affecting you again. Please, sit down. No good can come from what you're do-"

"SHUT UP!" barked Steve. Bits of foam sprayed from his mouth as he shouted. "You're just trying to fool me into giving up. I know your little tricks - you're working with them! All of you!" He staggered towards the trembling creeper. "I'm too smart to fall for your deceptions - I know what you're up to. Every. Single. One. Of. You. C'mon, I can take you. Let's see what you're made of."

"Steve-"

Steve growled, but it quickly turned into a groan. "I don't feel so…"

DC squealed as two blocks high of pure muscle fell forward and crushed him. The human was unconscious.

He wriggled out from under him and nervously tapped the body with his foot. "Steve? Steve! Oh, dear. Ohhhhh, dear, this isn't good."

He quickly became silent as he heard approaching footsteps from outside the cell. An Enderman, accompanied by an ever-smirking Alastor, teleported into the room in an explosion of purple dust. "Hello again. Have you all had a chance to introduce yourselves? What happened here?" he asked, noticing the sight of the unconscious Steve.

DC took a cautious step backwards, deciding it would be best to stay quiet.

"Cat got your tongue, eh? Well, no matter; I can guess for myself. Anyway, I'm going to need to borrow your friend for a few moments, okay?"

DC bravely placed himself between the madman and Steve, despite the urge to pass out from fright. "W-why? What are you going to do to him?"

"Awww, you're worried about him! Fear not, little creeper, for I merely wish to converse with him. Perhaps I can uncover the mystery behind his appearance in the Overworld; it's an issue that's been pestering me ever since I saw him. As for you, I'll leave you in the company of Herobrine for now. Try not to catch that nasty cough of his." He cackled at his own joke, while Herobrine raised his head at the sound of his name.

"Alastor," he croaked. Nobody heard him.

Laughing gleefully, Alastor snapped his fingers. The Enderman gently nudged a glaring DC aside and picked up the limp body of Steve in its long, elastic arms. The contact awakened Steve, who immediately began to scream bloody murder and bash the poor creature with his fists before falling unconscious again.

Alastor shook his head. "Strange friend you have there." With a wave of his hand, they were all gone, Steve included.

DC was left to stare at the pool of foam that had fallen from his companion's mouth.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Stephen."

_Someone's calling my name._

_No, he isn't. My name is Steve._

"Stephen?"

_Who is that? Sounds familiar. I should answer him… Nah. Too tired. And he's calling for some "Stephen" guy._

"Hey!"

Steve yelped as his inner peace was brutally interrupted by an abrupt slap to the face. Stunned, he willed his drowsy eyes to open.

Two teal eyes were glowering in front of his face. Two speaking eyes. "Awakened, have you? Good."

They were back in the beautiful room with the throne, although Steve could hardly appreciate its beauty when he was shackled to a chair. He opened his mouth to speak, but his vocal cords were frozen and refused to budge. In fact, his entire body felt unnaturally stiff. He couldn't even move in his seat. Of course, he couldn't process any of this, for the spider venom was making his head spin. All he could do was lazily glance at the strange person who was speaking. He was pacing around him and rambling on about something, but with each word Steve's hearing decreased. Eventually he failed to hear anything at all, although he could see that the man was doing something with his hands; his fingers were outstretched like a spider web, with his palms open to Steve. It appeared as though he was grasping for something invisible.

Shadows were waving at him through the corners of his vision. The room around him blurred and shattered into millions of colorful pieces. They danced in front of his eyes like a river made of rainbows, putting on a spectacular display.

As the shadows drew near, the strange, rambling person smiled and crouched beside him. He whispered something in his ear. Something Steve just barely made out.

"Goodbye, Stephen."

The world faded to black.

…

Meanwhile, DC was busy hyperventilating in the cell as he thought of all the bad things that could have happened to Steve. Torture. More torture. Maybe he was being drained this minute. Poor Steve - as if being poisoned by a giant spider wasn't enough.

He spent his time pacing from wall to wall, repeating the same sentence over and over again: "Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay."

Herobrine listened to the creeper's anxious chant wistfully, soaking in the sound of his little voice. "There's nothing you can do," he rasped. "I know it's difficult, but you have to try to calm down. Worrying won't change anything."

DC let out a frustrated huff. "And feeling sorry for yourself is going to restore peace to the world?" he snapped.

Herobrine flinched.

"Steve was the closest thing I had to a friend! If he's gone, then I don't know what to do. There's nothing left." With this revelation spoken aloud, he said no more for fear of bursting into tears.

Thus commenced the most awkward silence known to man.

The inevitable stillness was broken by the sudden appearance of an Enderman in the cell. It stared at the two prisoners but quickly pretended to be fascinated with looking at the floor when it saw DC staring back.

"…Is someone else in here?" whispered Herobrine.

"One of those Ender-creatures just teleported in here," DC whispered back, keeping his eye on it.

"Oh? Is Alastor not with it?"

"No."

"That's odd. Why is it here, then?"

"To free you."

"WHAT?" exclaimed DC. The Enderman spoke! "You speak!"

"Yes. Alas, I would require more time to explain much; all I can say is that Master prohibited speech when he enslaved us."

The Endermen were slaves? It made sense; they weren't exactly treated like equals. "What are you doing here?"

"I have come to free you from this prison," it declared. "We must hurry while we have the chance. I know the way to the portal. Let us go."

"Wait! Why are you helping us? Why didn't someone come earlier?"

"No time, no time. We must go now! Can you walk by any chance, Mr. Herobrine?"

"I can barely even breathe."

"Oh. In that case, I will carry you."

With Herobrine safely in its arms and DC by its side, the Enderman teleported out of the cell. "I lack the strength to teleport more than once every hour or so; I am a bit weaker than my brothers. We shall have to walk from here. Stay close."

The group ascended the same flights of stairs that brought them here and turned right. A long corridor awaited their arrival around the corner, through which they moved swiftly. It led them up a few rows of stairs to an observation deck overlooking the great magma lake below. Here the Enderman raised its head and let out the piercing shriek that had summoned the flying creatures before. Once again, they came from all sides and flew in their linear formation, forming a "bridge" from the fortress to the mountain where the portal stood.

"Hurry!" the Enderman cried. "There is no doubt Master has heard us by now. Across the ghasts!"

So that's what they were called. Fitting.

They made haste across the bridge of ghasts and stood in the portal. As the image of the hellish landscape disappeared from view, DC could've sworn he saw a pair of teal eyes glaring at them from the fortress's entrance.

At last, the Overworld came into view. DC was the first one to step onto the silky grass and fill his lungs with fresh, cool air. No more heat, no more fire, and the pigs weren't rotting and walking on two feet. The Overworld was the place for DC.

It was too bad Steve wasn't there to enjoy it with him.

The Enderman wasn't enjoying nature as much. "We must keep going," it persuaded. "Master cannot follow us through the portal, but I wouldn't be surprised if he sent a number of hostiles to hunt us down."

DC wasn't so sure they were safe from their enemy. The image of those teal eyes still burned in his mind. "Are you sure Alastor can't go through the portal?"

A sparkle shone in the Enderman's eye. It made a guttural noise similar to a chuckle. "Don't worry, my friend. I am certain he is doomed to dwell in the Nether. As for us, I know a good place to hide out for awhile. Follow me."

They followed the course of the clouds for an hour until the Enderman found the strength to teleport again. This took them to the edge of a leafy biome which DC had never seen before. "What is this?"

"This is a jungle," replied the Enderman.

"It's beautiful," murmured DC.

Indeed it was. Giant trees loomed over the shaded ground, with intertwining vines hanging from their leaves like a veil. Rich vegetation covered the deep, soft grass, especially so around the various ponds that dotted the landscape. The air was cool and damp, a pleasant change from the Nether's unforgiving heat. With the combination of the slight shade and the overgrown plants, it was easy to see why this would make a wonderful hideout.

"I know of a particular tree somewhere in here," explained the Enderman. "Its trunk is massive; we could easily hollow it out and use it as a base of sorts. Now, let me see… If we go this way, we should find it before nightfall." It pointed out the direction with its arm. "Let's go."

True to its word, there was indeed a giant tree in the middle of the jungle. The trunk stood out amidst the other, tinier trees, but this feature was well-hidden by a group of bushes. Herobrine was laid momentarily on the ground while the Enderman got to work hollowing out the trunk block by block. By the time it was finished, the sky exploded into a mass of orange and pink, signifying the setting sun. With its work finished and the other two safely inside, the Enderman holed up the entrance, leaving one block open above their heads so they could use the moonlight to see.

DC decided to address a question he had before he forgot. "Is there something we can call you by? Do Endermen have names?"

"Oh, yes, we do." It let out a small chuckle. "It has been so long since I have been called something besides a 'servant' that I almost forgot I had one. My brothers call me Loki. You may call me that as well."

"Ah. Well then, Loki… Thank you for rescuing us."

"You're welcome."

Once nighttime fell upon the jungle, they sat still in the darkness and listened to the moans, groans, and hisses of the night. No one dared to breathe louder than necessary. No one dared to move. The slightest noise could give away their place of refuge, and it was obvious they were hopelessly outnumbered. Their hearts would begin to pound violently whenever a foot would step too close to the tree. Sometimes a hostile was so close that its cry was deafening. In order to prevent himself from whimpering in fright, DC closed his eyes and prayed a little prayer of safety. Who it was he was praying to, he didn't know, but it calmed him just enough.

He must have fallen asleep at one point, because when he opened his eyes again, the sun was streaming through the hole in the trunk. Monsters were running around in agony as their bodies spontaneously burst into flames. They waited one minute. Two minutes. Three minutes.

Silence.

Loki re-opened the entrance to their hideout. "It appears that we are safe," it observed. "Of course, we should be cautious for any good-for-nothing creepers that decide to ambush us. Sorry," it apologized, seeing the hurt look on DC's face.

"It's okay. I know what you mean."

It nodded. "Anyway, we should spend today gathering supplies to sustain us for awhile, namely food."

Herobrine's face lit up.

"DC, I will go gather what I can of materials," it continued. "Perhaps you could look around and search for a bit of food. And Mr. Herobrine, I'll let you rest next to the tree - there you go - so you can listen for any signs of trouble; your hearing is better than most. If anything goes wrong, just yell, and I will promptly return. Is that okay with everyone?"

The two nodded.

"Well, I'll be off. Be safe." With that, Loki disappeared into the undergrowth, leaving DC to begin his quest for something edible.

Food, food… How would he go about getting food? There was no way he could bring himself to murder a farm animal, even if it was important. He didn't see any mushrooms in the area, either. What else was there to eat?

A tiny splash caught his attention. He walked around for a minute and came across a small pool of water. In it was a school of seven fish.

Aha!

He waded into the pool until half of his body was submerged, watching as the fish scattered around him, fearing their peaceful way of life had come to an end.

How right they were, he thought.

His mouth began to water at the thought of tucking into a nice, plump fish. There was more than plenty to feed all three of them. Dinner had arrived.

Wait. How was a creeper supposed to catch a fish? In a flash, almost as if his subconscious was answering him, he recalled the night he had gathered antidote ingredients for Steve. With his mouth.

He didn't like where this was going.

_But we have to eat_…

Taking a deep breath, he plunged his head into the cold water before giving himself too much time to think about it. He waded after the fish with determination, managing to corner a particularly slow one. He opened his mouth and chomped down.

Success!

_DISGUSTING!_

He choked and sputtered as the slimy fish flopped around between his jaws. "Mmmmph!" _Keep a hold on it, _he thought. _This depends on your survival._

…

He couldn't take it anymore.

"_Blech!_" he cried, as he wheeled his head around and spat out the fish.

Herobrine cried out in surprise as it smacked him in the face and landed directly in his lap. "Hey!"

DC ignored him, concentrating on the task at hand. One fish down, six more to go.

One by one, he gathered the school in his mouth, spitting them out on the shore. It was a less than desirable job, but it had to be done.

Just as he caught the final one, he heard something rustling in the bushes. He quickly set the fish on the grass and rinsed out his mouth with a few gulps of water. When he turned his head back to the shore, he froze.

And screamed.

"AAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Loki was busy gathering logs when it heard the shout. A quick teleport later, it was standing next to Herobrine, who, for some reason, had a dead fish in his lap.

"What's wrong?" it asked, dropping the gathered logs at its feet. "Are you being attacked? Is anyone hurt?"

Herobrine shook his head. "I don't know. DC just started screaming a second ago."

"Where is he?"

He pointed in the direction of the pool. "There, I think I heard him screaming over there."

It rushed to the pool, hoping the creeper wasn't harmed. Shoving aside a tall shrub, it stared at the scene.

DC was huddled in the corner of the pool, wet and shuddering. Opposite to him on the shore was a pile of fish, next to which was a small, speckled animal. The animal was contentedly munching on one of the fish and staring at the creeper with a loving gaze.

Loki burst into laughter.

"H-h-how can you l-laugh at me like that?" DC stammered. "I am in danger here!"

"Danger?" It regained its composure. "You're not talking about that ocelot over there, are you?"

"Ocelot? Th-that's what this is?"

"Yes. And I assure you, it is completely harmless. It probably just wanted some fish."

"B-but that fish is mine! I caught it with my own mouth!"

"Calm down, DC. Why don't you come out of the water? We'll find a way to cook the fish; there's still plenty for all of us."

"Hmph." He cautiously rose out of the pool and made sure to keep a wide distance between himself and the ocelot as he made his way back to the tree. Just looking at the thing gave him the shivers.

Back inside the tree, Loki showed the two all that he had gathered. "I rounded up some logs in hopes of being able to make tools like you humans do," he told Herobrine. "It could be invaluable to our survival. Perhaps you could tell me how?"

Herobrine's blind eyes glazed over in remembrance. "Of course."

He explained how to create planks out of logs and a crafting table out of planks. Loki proved to be a quick learner, being able to follow his instructions to near perfection. Within a few minutes, he had created his very first wooden pickaxe.

"With this," said Herobrine, "you can mine stone. If you gather eight blocks, we'll be able to make a furnace." He coughed in the middle of his explanation, forgetting for a moment how weak he currently was. "If you'll do that, I'll smelt the wood and create some fuel to cook the fish."

"Got it."

It didn't take but five minutes for him to return with the needed materials. A slight downpour of rain began to fall from the sky, so it quickly holed up the tree trunk again. It fashioned together a crude furnace, in which Herobrine burned a few logs into charcoal, feeling around for the objects. He used one piece to roast the fish, and with the rest he made some torches. Now they wouldn't have to rely on moonlight to see. Even in blindness, he was a talented crafter.

DC's stomach growled as he smelled the tantalizing scent of fish wafting from the furnace, but then he heard a small mew from outside the tree. The sound chilled his bones. "W-what was that?"

"The ocelot!" exclaimed Loki. "Poor thing is stuck out in the rain. I'll let it in."

"NONONONONONO-"

It was too late. Loki had already welcomed in the soaking-wet ocelot. It shook raindrops from its mangled fur and - seeing the one who had caught it such delicious fish - trotted over to DC and gazed up with its huge, adoring green eyes.

DC wasn't about to fall for its charms. He backed into a corner, only to have it follow him. "You!" he hissed at Loki. "You've murdered us all!"

"What? How?"

"You let in this… this monster!"

"How can you say that? It's just a little ocelot."

"Just a little ocelot? It's _petrifying_!"

"…I don't see what is to be so scared of."

"WHAT?" he bellowed. "Just look at those fangs!"

"They look like normal teeth to me."

"Those sharp claws!"

"What claws? It clearly has them retracted."

"Those wild eyes!"

"Are we even looking at the same thing?"

He whimpered as the ocelot licked its paws. "Look, it's preparing to eat me!"

"Nonsense."

"Vicious beast, it is!"

The ocelot proceeded to rub against the creeper and emit a happy purr.

He squeaked and tried scaring it away. "Shoo! Leave me alone! Oh, I didn't even feed it the fish; it stole it from me!"

Loki observed the pair. "I think it likes you."

DC stopped whining. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, for one thing, it's purring."

"Oh, is that what that noise is? I thought it was growling at me."

"Ocelots really aren't dangerous, DC."

"Hmmm…" He still wasn't truly convinced, but Loki's words slightly calmed him down. "It is kind of cute, in a way…"

Suddenly, its fur fell off in tufts, revealing a shimmering white coat with black tips on the tail, paws, and face. Its eyes morphed from green to a dazzling blue.

"I was wrong, I was wrong, it _is_ vicious, and it's going to kill us all. Help!" he panicked.

"What happened?" Herobrine spoke up.

"It-it _changed_! Right before my eyes! First it was speckled, now it's white! What's happening?"

"It's only transforming into a cat," replied Herobrine calmly.

"What?"

The human sighed musingly. "I remember, back in the village, there were a few ocelots that strayed from the jungle. When one bonded with a human (or a creeper, in your case), it would transform into a cat. Once bonded, it was forever loyal to the human. It's possible that is what happened with this one."

"You mean… this cat is loyal to me now?"

"I suppose so."

Their conversation was interrupted by the wonderful smell of roasted fish. They ate as if they had never eaten before. Loki nibbled on one (apparently Endermen weren't too fond of the fishy taste), DC ate two, and malnourished Herobrine wolfed down the remaining three.

As DC was working on his second fish, he heard another mew. The cat - _his_ cat - was pleading with its eyes for a bite. "This is mine," he growled. "You already stole one, remember?"

It pouted, and DC immediately felt guilty in spite of himself. He dropped the remainder of his fish at the cat's feet and allowed it to eat.

Night was falling, and the rain was still pouring. With the den lit up with torches and their bellies full of fish, the group fell into a relaxed sleep. As DC's eyes were closing, he felt the cat curl up next to him, an action that produced a lump in his throat. Even with these new allies by his side, he felt lonely. A gut feeling told him that Steve was dead by now, and a few tears slid down his face at the thought. He was alone once again, a powerless creeper against a powerful madman. Somehow, he was going to avenge his friend. One way or another, he would thwart Alastor's plans.

_Stevie_, he thought. _I'll name the cat Stevie. After my friend._

He fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

DC sprinted through the mass of jungle plants, grunting whenever a bush would push against him in an attempt to hinder his progress. His small muscles strained to keep up with his frantic footwork, and he was sorely out of breath, but he had to keep going. Stopping now would mean death. He didn't bother to glance at his pursuers behind him, for he could clearly hear their footsteps catching up with his own. There were many of them. Too many. They would eventually overcome him. And then what? Would they kill him?

Why else would he be running?

He tripped over a root and cried out as he tumbled headfirst into a large pit. He braced himself for the inevitable, painful landing that would no doubt lie ahead, but it never came; he merely continued to fall. _This is something that would only happen in a dream_, he thought.

"That would be because you _are _dreaming," stated a booming voice.

_Eh?_

"You are dreaming," stated the booming voice.

_Who said that?_

"It is I, Notch, creator of Minecraftia," stated the booming voice.

DC felt himself being lifted from the air, as if a large hand was scooping him up like a human would a small kitten. He was set back into the air, but instead of conforming to the rules of gravity and resuming his fall, he found himself suspended in the atmosphere. Looking around in the darkness, he saw nothing, but the voice continued to speak.

"I have come to ask something of you," it said. "For certain reasons, I decided it would be best to communicate with you in your sleep - it is safer that way."

"Why?" asked DC. "Why is it safer this way? And how do I know you're not just a figment of my imagination, since you said I'm dreaming?"

"A valid question, that is. Perhaps it would be easier for you to believe me if you could actually _see_ me." With that said, a great beam of light shone down from the sky, and in it appeared a giant, slightly bearded head covered in an odd-looking black hat. This was the head of Notch, god of Minecraftia.

The face was too detailed and memorable to be considered a mere part of a dream, for dreams are often presented like a blurry mirror before one's eyes. There were no words that had to be said for Notch to understand that DC indeed believed his appearance was true.

"These are dangerous times," he warned the creeper. "I have no doubts you already know of the predicament in which this world lies. Minecraftia is doomed to become a replica of the Nether - a horrible place of death, destruction, and fire. Alastor has grown powerful - too powerful. Humans were not meant to obtain such power; it has corrupted him just as much as the world itself. Humans were given one life to live. Alastor has taken a countless number, and it has twisted into a reserve that has made him immortal."

"Does that mean he's a god now?"

Notch sighed. "I'd rather consider him a demon, but yes, it has gotten to that point. He is too strong for me to conquer him; that is why I sent two specially-created individuals to descend from my home in the sky and restore peace to the Overworld. However, something went wrong in the process, and both were swept clean of their memories."

"And those individuals were…?"

"A creeper and a man - you and Steve."

"Steve and I?" The revelation produced a variety of questions in his head. "Why us? And how come I spawned in the darkness as a hostile?"

"The corrupted world saw you as a creeper; as a result, it received you as a hostile. As for why you and Steve were sent, haven't you noticed the similarity between him and another person, Herobrine, whom you have met?"

In a flash, DC recalled the moment he saw the prisoner who could have easily passed for his friend's twin. "Yes." _I'm afraid to ask_. "Why do they look so alike?"

"They bear such a resemblance because Steve is the reincarnation of Herobrine himself."

"Wh-what? How is that even possible?"

A playful smile etched into the corners of the god's mouth. "I created this world, remember? That and all of the creatures in it. Let me tell you something about Herobrine; he has an incredible amount of potential, a myriad of gifts and talents he only caught a glimpse of when he used them for evil out of ignorance. It appears that he has long since repented for his actions, but he still has yet to live out the punishment for his atrocious crime; for that reason, I could not use him. Therefore, I decided to create another human who had all the capabilities of Herobrine. Such a person you cannot create from scratch (it's a god thing; you wouldn't understand), so I used Herobrine as a "base component", if you will. From that came Steve, one of two chosen heroes."

It was a bit confusing to take in. "What about me, then? Where do I come into the picture?"

"If you can remember from Alastor's account, Herobrine had a friend - a creeper called DC. Nobody knows about this (except me, of course), but DC also had an enormous aptitude when it came to the aura - almost more than Herobrine. He could see it, and he could use it; he chose not to for the sake of peace, a very admirable decision on his part. I took pity on the poor creature when he was accidentally murdered by Herobrine and forgotten in the ground. It was quite the difficult decision for me to make, but in the end I resolved to bring him back to life by providing him with a piece of my own aura. You may not think it was that difficult of a decision, but hear me out. Once a god gives up a part of his aura, he is no longer immortal. I am still Notch, creator of Minecraftia, but my powers are limited. My years are numbered as well, but…" He winked at DC. "I do believe it was well worth it. I brought you up to the sky to rest, and once Steve was created I sent both of you to the Overworld to stop Alastor from completely destroying everything, for that is his wish - to destroy. Do you get it? I chose the two of you not only because of your power, but also because you are a natural pair together. Steve is the reincarnation of Herobrine, and you, DC, are Herobrine's friend brought back to life."

"I'm not just a randomly-generated, ordinary creeper?"

"No. You were created with a purpose, as everything else was. And you are _far_ from ordinary. I had no doubts that you and Steve would restore the peace together. Unfortunately…" He stopped.

The look on his face had changed so suddenly that DC was more than a bit unnerved. "What? What's so unfortunate?"

"Steve… has been drained by Alastor."

_No… _All hopes of being reunited with his friend vanished within a second. _Steve is dead. _He choked back a sob and let the news sink in. _He really is dead_…

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am for his death. Since I am no longer considered a god, I could only watch as his life was taken. I apologize; truly, I am sorry."

DC stared at his feet, his heart drowned in sorrow. Images of his enemy flashed behind his eyes as a scorching heat built up in his chest. This was a new emotion to the creeper, one that scared him with its overwhelming power. The pressure continued to grow until he was afraid he might burst. What was this feeling? It felt similar to when he had snapped at Herobrine in the cell, but to a much higher degree. He was _seething _at the thought of Alastor. He wanted to destroy him and leave nothing behind.

"You're angry," murmured Notch.

DC lifted his head. "I want revenge. He murdered my friend - my only friend."

"That he did, and there is a way to defeat him, DC."

"Really? How?"

"Do you remember that stone you stumbled upon in that cavern?"

"Yes…"

"That is what I like to call my 'godstone'. It has a variety of uses, including being able to see any part of the world through it. I accidentally dropped it when I banished Herobrine and Alastor to the Nether. Because of that, Alastor now has it in his possession."

"How did it get into the cavern, then?"

"That cavern was originally an old shrine a group of humans and creepers erected for me as a sign of loyalty. Alastor saw you and Steve appear on the earth and wanted to capture you, but he wanted you together. Therefore, he sent one of the Endermen to the cavern with the stone as he saw you in the general area, hoping that you would discover it, which you did. You heard the stone speak; that is another one of its uses. You see, Alastor tricked you - that was him speaking into the stone and morphing the runes with his power. You found Steve and ventured into the shrine once more, only to discover that he had already repossessed it. By then, he had set his trap, and you two were eventually captured according to his plan."

"No way…"

"That godstone I mentioned - you need to retrieve it from his grasp. In it lies the power you need to defeat him once and for all, a fact to which he is ignorant. Since you are DC, the creeper with the draining gift, you have the ability to take his soul - with the stone's help, of course. Trap his soul into it, and then throw it into the sea of magma, for only the flames can destroy the godstone."

"Why can't you just pick it up?"

"As the creator, I must stay in the sky. I can only watch over the world and not dwell in it myself."

DC was hesitant. Not only did this mean he would have to return to the Nether, but he would also have to inevitably face Alastor again. "I don't know if I can do this…"

"Of course you can - you are my creation, after all. I wouldn't have brought you back to life if I had not a purpose for you. I have faith in you, DC - immense faith. Do not doubt yourself."

And that is exactly what he was doing - doubting himself. After all, this was quite the difficult task he was being put to, considering this was the world that had to be saved. Nevertheless, he swallowed his fear and looked the former god in the eye. "I'll do it," he said.

Notch gave a solemn nod. "Thank you, valiant creeper. I will watch over you as you go. Now, it is time for you to wake up. The world has already begun to collapse."

"What?" But the dream world was already fading to black. DC was no longer levitating and felt himself fall backwards. A muffled voice began to call his name, and as he fell deeper into the dark abyss, the voice became clearer… and much more urgent.

"DC! You _must_ wake up! We have to get out of here - now!" It was the voice of Loki.

He felt the Enderman shaking his sleeping form on the ground. Stevie the cat mewed in his face, and he slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was Loki with Herobrine in his spindly arms. Stevie was standing on the creeper's stomach, its eyes wide with fear.

_Wait…_

Why was the tree so bright?

And so hot?

DC shot up from the ground, resulting in Stevie tumbling off of him. He ran outside and gasped.

The entire jungle was aglow with flames.

**A/N: I apologize if this chapter seems a bit shorter than the others. This was meant to be sort of a "filler" chapter, because I'm currently in the middle of studying for my final exams. One week to go, and then I'm free! :D**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hey again. Just as a short note - any "…" you see on a line by itself is my way of switching the point of view. I don't know how else to do it. :^\ - odd face**

**By the way, I'm going to be participating in this year's Camp NaNoWriMo starting tomorrow (Google it if you've never heard of it). I'll still be working on this story at the same time - just a heads up in case uploads are prolonged for a bit.**

Chapter 13

What was once a thriving, cool, green jungle was now a dead, sweltering mess of orange and red. Not a leaf was left as the fire swept in to consume everything in its path. The roar of the flames was deafening but still not loud enough to mute the cries of jungle life. Farm animals and ocelots screamed and squealed in agony and panic as the flames burned away at their skins; they ran around in search of a pool to stop their torment, but the water had dried up, leaving them to suffer until they could take it no more and died. The stench of burned flesh and fur was nearly intolerable.

"DC!" shouted Loki. "Come close to me so I can teleport us out of here! It is too dangerous to risk running through the fire!"

DC did as he was told, horror-stricken at the devastating sight. Stevie jumped into Herobrine's lap and whimpered at the sound of its dying brothers and sisters. Loki closed his eyes, and the group was teleported to the edge of the jungle. Unfortunately, the destruction was all the more apparent here. The group couldn't believe their eyes.

It was as if they had never left the Nether. Not a speck of green was left - no grass, no flowers, no wildlife at all. The ground had been replaced with the reddish stone that had made up the hellish underworld. Spots of ground consisted of dirt-colored, swirling meshes that looked suspiciously like a group of screaming faces. Although the night sky still covered the world in darkness, the flames that crowded around the landscape lit up the surroundings for all to see, the type of light that provided sight but no comfort. What was more shocking was the fact that all the ponds and other bodies of water were now filled to the brim with bubbling, orange lava. DC realized that Notch was right; the world really was collapsing. How on earth did Alastor do it?

Herobrine could feel the heat of the world on his face. "What has happened to everything?"

DC quickly filled him in with the details, and then he remembered the god's instructions. "We have to go back to the Nether!" he exclaimed.

Herobrine quickly rushed to protest. "Are you out of your mind?" he gasped.

"I do believe I brought you two _away_ from that place for a reason," joined in Loki. "You want us to go back?"

How was DC going to break the news? "Chances are you won't believe me, but I had a dream earlier tonight… and Notch spoke to me through it."

Loki appeared a bit confused, but Herobrine found interest in his announcement. "Go on," he urged. "What did he say?"

DC gulped. "Well, first he warned me about the destruction that was about to take place… and then he…" _No, I can't tell them that. Not yet, anyway. I don't know how he would react._

It only sunk in at that moment; DC wasn't the creeper he thought he was. This blind man in front of him wasn't merely a stranger; he was an old friend… albeit one that had murdered him, although it had been a complete accident. His head couldn't wrap itself around this. It was too surreal. After all, if this man was a friend, and if everything that had happened in the past indeed happened, then shouldn't he be able to remember it all?

Why couldn't he remember anything?

"Are you okay?" broke in Loki.

"Hm?"

"You suddenly stopped speaking."

"Oh." _I'll tell them when this mess is sorted out… Now isn't the time. _"I'm fine," he lied (for he was anything but). "I was just trying to remember everything Notch had said."

"What else did he say?" asked Herobrine.

"He said there is a way to defeat Alastor."

"That's brilliant!" cried Loki, although Herobrine fell unusually silent at the news. "How?"

"You know that stone on top of his staff? The blue one?"

"Yeah."

"It's Notch's godstone… and we need to take it."

It was Loki's turn to fall silent. Stevie took the opportunity to have a wash atop Herobrine's stomach.

"I know the idea sounds ludicrous, but it's the only way. That stone will allow us to drain Alastor's aura… or should I say auras. Anyway, once we trap his soul in the stone, we throw it in the magma lake - Notch said it can only be destroyed by fire."

"And then what?" rasped Herobrine.

All heads turned to the blind man.

"What happens when he is dead? The world has already been destroyed. His wish has almost been fulfilled. What good would killing him do? It would be nothing more than an act of revenge. It's meaningless."

"You're standing up for him, aren't you!" exclaimed Loki. "I can't believe it. After everything he did to you? To us?"

"You're forgetting that this happens to be _my _fault. None of this would have happened if I had just died in the first place."

"Are you still sulking about that?" cut in DC. "We get it - you went insane and murdered thousands of people, and I think we all agree that what you did was a horrible thing. But what good are you doing when you're just regretting things? You don't even know that this wouldn't have happened if you weren't here; in my opinion, Alastor would have done something one way or another, whether it was brought on by you or not."

"What are you saying, then?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'm _telling_ you to get over it and cooperate with us."

He was taken aback by his own bluntness, as were the other two. Still, it had to be said - something had to be said. They had to move forward, for the sake of the world.

"I'm an evil man," protested Herobrine.

"You may have been," agreed DC. "But here's a chance to redeem yourself. Help us defeat Alastor. You want the world to return to normal, right?"

"Of course I do! It's just that…"

"What?"

"How are you not angry with me? With what I did? How can you not hate me?"

"Do you really think we have time for hatred? The world is being destroyed, Herobrine!"

"Besides," added Loki. "You yourself said that you fully regret your actions. What more could we ask for than remorse?"

Stevie licked the man's hand, as if it understood the conversation that was taking place.

Herobrine sighed. "You're right. Alastor's damage must be stopped."

DC nodded. "Right."

"How did you say we stop him again?"

"Somehow, we need to get the godstone from his staff and use it to drain his soul."

"You mean that staff he carries with him _all the time_?" emphasized Loki. "There's no way we could sneak past him!"

"Yes… unless someone were to, say, teleport…" said Herobrine.

DC glanced at Loki. Loki set his gaze towards the ground. "I don't know…" he mumbled. "I can only teleport once within an hour. Any more than that and I might pass out. Although…" He tilted his head thoughtfully. "It could work if you two were placed in hiding."

"Why?" asked DC.

"Trust me," he replied with a wink. "This will work. We'll return to the Nether, and I'll place you two in a dug-out hole in the wall (don't worry about the creatures of the Nether; they're harmless unless you provoke them). I will teleport to Alastor's location and retrieve the stone, and then I'll teleport back to you. If we are swift, it shall work."

"What about Stevie?" asked DC.

"Who? Oh, the cat."

"I don't know if I want it taken with us. It might be too dangerous. I don't want anything to happen to it."

"You're right." He set down Herobrine on the ground and scoured the land with his glowing eyes. After a few moments of searching, he picked a small, close hill to hide the cat, excavating a small hole in its side with his pickaxe. "Here you go," he said, gently dropping Stevie. "Stay here while we're gone, okay? We'll be back for you in awhile."

DC couldn't help but feel a tugging at his heart as he saw his new pet's pleading face. "We promise," he told it. "We won't leave you for long. You'll be safe here… Okay?"

Stevie whimpered but gave a nod of agreement. It backed up into the corner of its shelter and sat down, obviously nervous to be left alone.

The group heard a grunt behind them. Whirling around, they saw Herobrine struggling to stand up. "What in the world do you think you are doing?" inquired Loki in disbelief.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm standing up. I regained a bit of my strength back during these past couple of days." He stood up straight and winced. "Emphasis on a _bit_."

"Sit back down; I can still carry y-"

"I can walk - really. I'm sick of feeling helpless all the time."

DC could relate.

Loki sighed. "Fine. Wait just a moment." He picked up a long, sturdy branch that had broken off from a tree. "Use this."

Herobrine gladly took the branch. "Thank you. This will help."

DC took one last glance at Stevie. "Shall we go, then?"

Loki nodded. "We shall."

He led the group with his exceptional sense of direction as they backtracked their way to the portal. It took longer than the last time, since they now had burning obstacles in their way. What they noticed was that Nether creatures were somehow appearing in the Overworld, including those pig-like monsters with swords. Ghasts were floating in hordes in the sky, shooting balls of fire at the exposed group with a maniacal cry, forcing them to quicken their pace so they would not be hit. By the time they reached the portal, they were unnerved and out of breath.

"Quickly!" huffed Loki. "Into the portal!"

They wasted no time in scrambling into the gateway to hell. Just as they disappeared into thin air, a ghast launched its fireball at the portal, destroying the substance between the frame. Now there was no turning back.

DC immediately wrinkled his nose when he saw the familiar sight of the Nether come into view. He had almost forgotten how much he hated the place.

"I'm surprised Master hasn't been waiting for us to return," remarked Loki, "but never mind that now. Let's get you two hidden."

He quickly chipped away at the red stone a little ways from the portal, with Herobrine's help (now that he was able to walk). In no time at all, they had dug out a low tunnel leading to a man-made cavern. Loki lit the place up with their remaining torches and stepped back, satisfied with his work. "I think I'm improving my skills as a builder," he said in amusement.

Once Herobrine and DC were safely tucked away in the cavern, Loki took a block of the stone and partially filled in the tunnel's entrance. "Remember - you must stay put; otherwise, I won't be able to visualize your location so I can teleport back."

_So that's how he does it, _thought DC. "We'll be here," he assured him. "Be safe, Loki."

"Good luck to you," added Herobrine.

"Thank you." With that said, he completely filled in the tunnel's entrance. Both DC and Herobrine hoped they would see the Enderman's friendly face again.

…

Loki leaned against the wall and let out a slow breath, physically and mentally preparing himself for what lay ahead. Teleporting twice within the hour? His brothers would surely call him mad… Not that they ever spoke to one another anymore - Master had put a stop to that when… He shook his head. Now was definitely not the time to bring up bad memories.

Alright. He was ready. A few steps brought him to the edge of the mountain, where he peered at the daunting fortress in the distance. No doubt Master was still in his prized throne room; where else was there to go in hell? He was taking a chance in assuming, of course. If he was wrong, then he would be presented with the task of searching the entire stronghold for his target, and that was something that presented a heap of hazards in itself.

Maybe he wasn't ready after all.

Could he really do this? Was his body capable of withstanding such strain? He had always been frail compared to the rest. Born with a weaker heart, he was told. Teleportation was nothing short of difficult - he had been advised against attempting it altogether - but he had refused to stand aside as his brothers trained to perfect the trick.

Why was he doubting himself now, of all times? He had done this before - hundreds of times! Surely it wouldn't harm him. It couldn't. He was young and strong - not as strong as the others, maybe, but still strong. He thought about the freedom it would bring to his brothers. They needed their free will returned to them. He was sick of watching them suffer under the hands of tyranny. He wanted to see them as free Endermen.

No more thinking about this. He was ready. With a deep breath, he envisioned the throne room. Walls of gold, a blue-tiled floor, a strip of red carpet leading to the chair where his master sat. _Take me there,_ he urged his mind. _Take me to my master._

…

The two sat in the cavern, uneasily awaiting the return of the Enderman. DC decided to say something to break the awkward silence that always seemed to follow him. "I hope he comes back alright."

"As do I," agreed Herobrine.

Silence again.

"May I ask you something, DC?"

He gazed at the troubled look on the blind man's face. "Yes."

"Is it at all possible that you - I'm sure I'm talking a bunch of nonsense - I mean… Do I look familiar at all?"

DC could've sworn he felt his heart jump into his throat. "I-you-what?" was all he could answer.

"I know my question is an odd one, but I can't clear this feeling of familiarity whenever I hear you speak. You have the same name as my old friend… and the same voice. Am I merely losing my mind, or are you -"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence, as a monstrous roar interrupted him from outside the tunnel. A supernatural amount of strength ripped the entrance's blocks away, crumbling them into pieces.

DC squinted through the debris at the figure looming in the doorway. "Steve?" he whispered.


End file.
